


Small Fry

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Series: Fishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-02
Updated: 1999-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:03:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: What happens when a worried Mountie confides in his sister.  (Hint: Ray K. gets to realize a long-held dream.) Rated S for 'sappy.' :-) This story is a sequel toHook, Line, and Sinker.





	Small Fry

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Small Fry

 

 

This story features characters from _Due South_ most notably Benton  
Fraser & Ray Kowalski, as well as others. Characters property of Alliance,  
everything else is MINE ALL MINE! This is the fourth in the "Fishing"  
series, and a direct a sequel to " _Hook, Line & Sinker_."

Rated NC-17 for graphic sexuality (M/M). If you're considered a minor in your community please do not read this. If you're narrow-minded or easily offended, you may want to take a pass as well. I'm also putting a strong 'diabetic coma' warning on this story. It's sappy. I can't help it. Every once in awhile just I have this overwhelming need to make a character's dreams come true. :-}  
  
Timeline-wise this is set some four months or so after "The Call of the Wild," the series finale of _Due South_. Please note this is not a 'fixit' story. If you're going to get upset by seeing Fraser with Ray K., then you probably want to skip this one. 

Many thanks to my beta readers, Marina Bailey, Debra Ann Fiorini, and Carol Ann Liddiard.   


* * *

  
  


## Small Fry

c. 1999, Kellie Matthews  


  
        Benton Fraser sat on  
the porch step of the cabin that had been rebuilt on his father's land.  
It was good to be home again, to have a home again. He looked across  
the yard to where Ray was occupied with feeding the dogs with sure and  
practiced movements. Just a few months ago he would have been half-afraid  
to go near them, now he was an old hand. Ben still had to smile at his  
attire. Though the day was relatively warm, Ray was bundled into a heavy  
fur parka that seemed about ready to consume him. Ben's half-sister,  
Maggie stood beside him, watching the same man. She turned and looked  
at Ben, at the warm smile curving his mouth, then punched him lightly  
in the arm.  
        "See,  
I knew he didn't really want me."  
        Fraser  
looked back at her, smiling slightly. "So it would appear."  
        She grinned. "He  
just wanted me because I was a female you."  
        "A  
female ewe?" Fraser echoed artlessly. "Aren't ewes are always  
female?"  
        She  
hit him. He laughed, picked up a handful of snow and tossed it at her.  
She scrabbled a snowball for herself and hit him square in the face.  
Within seconds the battle had been joined and they were lobbing snow  
at each other for all they were worth, until an indignant voice managed  
to penetrate their laughter.  
        "Hey  
there nutballs! Truce 'til I get past, okay? I'm freezin'! I gotta  
get ins . . ."  
        The  
protest cut off mid-word as they turned as one and hurled their frigid  
ammunition at him instead. Apparently their target had been expecting  
something of the sort, because he already had his parka-clad arm in front  
of his face so they didn't get skin. Then, grinning, he popped each  
of them one with the snowballs he'd been carrying. As they were wiping  
snow off their faces he dashed past them and into the cabin, slamming  
the door closed behind himself. Maggie finished first, laughing and  
shaking her head.  
        "He  
plays dirty."  
        "Yes,  
he does," Fraser agreed, grinning. "It's part of his charm."  
        She looked from the cabin  
door, back to her brother. "You seem happy," she said, but  
her inflection went up at the end of the sentence so he knew it was a  
question, not a statement. He nodded.  
        "Yes,  
Maggie. I am."  
        "And  
is he?" She asked quietly.  
        Fraser  
considered that, and nodded, slowly. "I think so. We . . . fit."  
        "Good. I'm glad,"  
she said warmly, putting her hand over his, patting lightly. Then she  
looked away and let her hand drop away from his.  
        Sensing  
a change in her mood, his eyes searched her face carefully. "And  
you, Maggie? Are you happy these days?"  
        Maggie  
shrugged. "As happy as I can be, all things considered."  
        She was thinking of Casey,  
he was sure. He couldn't bring himself to utter a platitude about finding  
someone else someday. He knew that might not happen. Instead he reached  
out and touched her shoulder, a gesture of support and understanding.  
        "I'm sorry, Maggie.  
It must be very difficult."  
        She  
nodded. "It is. The other day I was cleaning out some old papers  
and things, stuff I hadn't touched since, well, since he . . . was killed.  
It kind of brought it all home again. There was so much we were going  
to do, so many plans, and now, he's gone, and none of those things will  
ever happen."  
        "You  
never know what the future holds."  
        She  
shot him a slightly annoyed look. "Yes, I can. In some of this,  
at least. I don't know that I could ever trust a man that much again.  
I mean, I can trust you, but you're my brother. I can probably trust  
Ray, because you two are together. But to trust some other man with  
myself, with my heart. . . I don't think so. It hurts too much."  
        Ben closed his eyes briefly,  
remembering those wounds, those feelings. He understood. Completely.  
"Maggie, I've felt that way myself, twice. You can get through  
it, it is possible, I promise you that."  
        "I'm  
not sure I want to, all things considered," she said softly. "Still,  
sometimes I wish . . ." her voice trailed off and she shook herself.  
"Well, enough about that. I'm just glad you and Ray are doing well.  
I have to say, I was surprised when I realized that you were more than  
just partners and friends. I mean, when I was in Chicago, there didn't  
seem to be anything more between you."  
        "There  
wasn't, not then. It happened not long after you left, and frankly,  
at first I was as surprised as you. It seemed so unlikely, yet as you  
say we are doing well. Though sometimes I . . . well, never mind that."  
        She looked at him sharply.  
"Do I sense a little hesitation there?"  
        Fraser  
sighed, and looked at her. There was something. He didn't like to think  
about it, but it did sometimes concern him. "Perhaps," he  
admitted finally.  
        "About  
what?"  
        "About  
the things I can't give him. I think about those things, probably more  
often than I should. You knew Ray was married for quite some time, right?"  
At her nod, he continued. "Long before we became lovers, he talked  
to me about his marriage and why it failed. There were many things of  
course, there's rarely a single cause for something like that, but one  
of the principal difficulties was apparently that she was an attorney  
with a promising career and Ray wanted children."  
        "Ah,"  
Maggie said quietly after a moment. "I see."  
        "It  
became an insurmountable obstacle."  
        "And  
you worry that it might become one for you, as well?"  
        Ben  
sighed. "He hasn't mentioned it since we've been together, but  
I can't help but remember that it once meant a great deal to him."  
        Maggie nodded. "I  
can understand that. It would be hard not to wonder, to worry."  
        "Exactly,"  
he sighed. "I just have to trust that we can surmount that obstacle,  
should it appear."  
        Maggie  
nodded solemnly, looking into his face. There was a slightly haunted  
quality to her gaze that made him ache for her, and wish he could help,  
but there was really no way to do so. Her pain would have to die a natural  
death.  
        The front  
door opened, and Ray stuck his head out. "You two done with the  
Big Brother-Little Sister chat, yet? I was lookin' at the stew, and  
I wondered if I should I put anise or ginger in it?"  
        Maggie  
and Ben looked at each other in dismay and both scrambled for the door.  
It wasn't generally safe to leave Ray alone with food. Fraser had attempted  
to teach him the rudiments of seasonings, but being on the trail with  
little variety available to him he hadn't had much luck. Every time  
he and Ray stopped somewhere with a real kitchen and more than four types  
of herb or spice, he was inclined to . . . experiment. This particular  
experiment needed to be nipped in the bud before he ruined a perfectly  
good stew.

 

* * *  


  
        Ray was feeling mellow.  
He hadn't expected to take to life in the Great Northwest, but he found  
himself more and more at home here, aside from being cold all the time.  
Or at least that percentage of the time when Fraser wasn't wrapped around  
him like a blanket. He smiled, flattening a hand across his still-full  
stomach. It seemed like Fraser was always feeding him to try to put  
some insulation on his bones, but so far it hadn't worked. He was as  
skinny as ever, though in better condition than he'd ever before achieved.  
He guessed it was just his fate to be thin.  
        He  
looked over at Fraser where he sat reading by the light of a kerosene  
lantern, then shifted his gaze past his lover to Maggie, sitting at the  
table writing a report. They both looked very 'at home' here too. Of  
course they would, since it _was_ home for them. The room was silent,  
save for the sounds of the fire in the woodstove, the slight scratching  
of pen against paper, and the occasional turn of a page. Strangely,  
he felt quite at home, himself. When they'd first started out on their  
search for the Hand of Franklin, Ray had thought he would go stark raving  
nuts from boredom, but although they hadn't located the legendary explorer,  
he actually had found an unexpected reservoir of inner peace, which was  
probably a more useful thing to have found, anyway.  
        He'd  
learned the distraction of physical exertion, the satisfaction of accomplishment,  
and without the constant input of 'civilization' the frenetic flow of  
his brain had actually slowed a little. He'd learned to enjoy silence,  
and the blaze of uncountable stars against a black, not pinkish sky.  
He let his gaze go back to Fraser's face, and wondered if he would ever  
miss television again. Funny how the things you didn't think you could  
do without were sometimes the things you missed the least. Now, good  
Chinese food, that he missed. Somehow stir-fried venison with pine nuts  
and field greens just wasn't quite the same.  
        He  
was strangely reluctant to go back to the place he had called home for  
most of his life, reluctant to leave this new home that felt more like  
home than home ever had. He smiled at that convoluted thought. It would  
be strange to feel asphalt under his feet instead of snow, and rock,  
and earth. He would miss the unfettered sky, the clean air, the smell  
of woodsmoke, the sound of wolves in the distance. All of it.  
        And then there was Fraser.  
He was different here, too. Gentler. More innocent. More joyous.  
He'd lost that hint of 'edge' he'd developed in Chicago. He was just  
more . . . Fraser here. Ray wondered now how Ben had stood being out  
of his element for so long. Now that he realized what it had cost his  
partner to stay in Chicago when he could have transferred much closer  
to home, he appreciated his staying all the more. To do that had taken  
loyalty of a kind that even now Ray couldn't quite comprehend, especially  
considering what a jerk he'd been most of the time.  
        He  
remembered something he'd heard once in church, not that he'd paid a  
lot of attention in church, but at the time he'd been about fourteen  
years old and already in love with Stella, and the words had just sounded  
so right. "Whither thou goest, I go." Funny, at the time  
he'd thought it was weird that a woman would say that to another woman.  
Now he understood. He felt that way about Fraser.  
        As  
if aware of his thoughts, Fraser closed his book and looked up at Ray,  
a smile lighting his face. After all this time, Ray still sometimes  
had trouble believing that smile was for him. Every once in awhile  
he found himself glancing over his shoulder to see who Fraser was looking  
at. He felt a flare of desire, as he always did when he saw that smile,  
the warmth in those gorgeous, and amazingly innocent blue eyes. How  
the man could have done some of the things he had, see the things he'd  
seen, and yet still retain that sense of childlike wonder Ray didn't  
know, but he wasn't going to question it, either. He was just going  
to accept it and be thankful.  
        Ben  
stood up, stretching, and Ray let his gaze slide down his body, knowing  
what it looked like under that thermal top, and those snug flannel-lined  
jeans. His mouth watered.  
        Maggie  
looked up from her report. "Turning in?"  
        Ben  
nodded. "I believe so. Ray?"  
        "Sounds  
good to me," he rolled off the couch and joined Fraser by the door  
to put on his boots, then pulled their parkas from the hooks beside the  
door. Shrugging into his, he handed the other to Fraser. "G'night  
Maggie. Sweet dreams."  
        She  
looked at him for a long moment, with an odd, thoughtful expression on  
her face, then she seemed to come back to herself and she smiled. "Good  
night, Ray, Ben. Sleep well."  
        "Oh,  
we will," Ray said, winking at her, amused to see her color slightly.  
She was just as easy to embarrass as Ben.  
        He  
wondered sometimes if she wasn't lonely. Then he remembered her husband,  
and figured she was probably still getting over that. He felt bad for  
her. She was Ben's sister, and that sort of made her his sister. Good  
thing Casey the jerkface was already dead, he thought darkly, pulling  
his parka closed as Fraser opened the door and the cold swirled into  
the room.  
        Damn,  
this was the part he hated. He knew that the stove in the barn would  
be going, and their bed would be warm once they got there, but getting  
from here to there was a pain in the ass. But since the cabin essentially  
had only two rooms they'd opted for the barn while Maggie was visiting.  
Privacy was worth a walk in the cold. Especially since he and Ben both  
tended to be rather . . . vocal.

* * *  


  
        Maggie sat for a long  
time, staring at her report, not seeing the page, not writing. Ever  
since her conversation with Ben that afternoon, she had been preoccupied,  
worrying at the problem he had revealed to her. The more she'd thought  
about it, the more she thought she might have an answer, and almost unconsciously  
she'd begun to think about details, about what would have to be done  
to make it work. The more she thought about it, the more determined  
she got, and there was very little that a determined Maggie Mackenzie  
couldn't accomplish. She went to the kitchen and started digging until  
she found what she was looking for, then put on her boots and her parka,  
and set off across the snow to the barn.  
        Lights  
glowed from within so she knew they were still awake. Without really  
thinking about it, she thumbed back the latch, and swung the inset door  
open, then froze. Oh dear. She backed up quickly, closing the door  
quietly, trying to pretend she hadn't just seen what she'd seen. Her  
face felt like someone had poured boiling water on it. She fanned a  
hand at her cheek, trying to stop blushing.  
        She  
really shouldn't be surprised. After all, Ray had dropped hints that  
only someone devoid of any social skills whatsoever could possibly have  
missed. It was just that she had got the bit between her teeth and forgotten.  
Good heavens. For such a slender guy, he was certainly . . . built.  
All muscle. Thankfully Ben had been too tangled in blankets and Ray  
to be very visible. She really did not want to know what her half-brother  
looked like in the altogether.  
        After  
several moments without either of them coming to the door, she realized  
they must not have noticed her. Thank goodness. She quietly left the  
barn and went back to the house. Now that she'd had a few minutes to  
think about it, she realized it was just as well. Probably best to talk  
to Ben about her idea in the morning, privately, rather than charging  
in full-steam ahead as she usually did.

* * *  


        Ben stepped out of the barn into the cold half-light of morning and started across to the cabin. Then he stopped, looking down at the snow, frowning slightly. There were his footprints in last night's dusting of fresh snow, and Ray's, and . . . a third set. Smaller. Whoever it was had gone to the barn using long, determined strides, but had left it less certainly.   
        He knelt and checked one of the prints. Not fresh. The snow had hardened around it, probably several hours worth of glaze. Odd. He followed the smaller set, found it led back to the cabin, and stood outside for a long moment, staring at the door, frowning. Why would Maggie have come out to the barn last night, and then gone back to the cabin without completing whatever errand she had meant to accomplish?   
        It took only a few seconds thought before the answer occurred to him. He shook his head, feeling a slight flush in his face that had nothing to do with the wind-chill. Well, that would certainly explain it. His father's children might not be terribly swift when it came to interpersonal relations, but they were very tactful. He moved up the stairs and quietly let himself into the cabin.   
        The fire in the woodstove had died to coals, and he took a few moments to build it up before turning to the pantry and taking out a bowl and the flour. As he did, he noticed an item sitting on the counter that he was sure they hadn't used last night. Nor were they likely to be using it soon, as it wasn't the right season for goose, or duck. Pushing it to one side, he measured flour, powdered milk, salt, and soda into the bowl, then added an egg from the icebox, and lukewarm water from the kettle, stirring to make a batter. Setting the bowl aside, he got out the griddle and set it on the stove.  
        "Morning, Bro!" Maggie said cheerfully, coming from the bedroom into the main cabin. She was wrapped warmly in a blanket-robe and sheepskin slippers. "Thanks for stoking the fire. I guess I overslept. I was up a little late last night."  
        Her voice seemed overly bright as she sidled toward the counter. He turned to the stove and held a hand over the griddle to check the temperature. Close. A few more degrees. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her grab the basting syringe from the counter and slip it up her sleeve. Odd. What on earth would she want with that?  
        He was about to ask, when it dawned on him that her action had been rather surreptitious. Even more odd. Suddenly something he'd once read on an informational website for alternative lifestyles floated to the surface of his mind, and his eyes widened. No. Not Maggie. She couldn't be thinking of . . . could she?   
        "So, was there something you wanted, last night?" he asked casually.  
        She stared at him, eyes huge. "Um, why do you ask?"  
        He turned and looked at her evenly. "I noticed your footprints in the snow outside."  
        She turned bright red. "Oh. I, ah, well, I was going to ask you guys something, but then I realized you were. . . uh, probably, um. . . asleep."  
        He chuckled. "Ah." He spooned two circles of batter onto the griddle. "So, what was it you wanted to ask?" He wasn't going to go further, but he couldn't resist. "Might it have had something to do with preparing roast fowl?"  
        She stared at him. Her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes narrowed. "You rat! You saw it, didn't you?"  
        He grinned. "I could hardly miss it, Maggie."  
        She made a growling noise and glared at him. "That was mean."  
        "Sorry. Sometimes my sense of humor gets the best of me."  
        "So I see." Then she grinned, sheepishly. "I suppose this teasing stuff is one of those brother-sister things we missed out on, not growing up together."  
        He nodded. "I suspect so." He studied her face intently. "But honestly, what were you wanting to ask?"  
        She sighed, and took a seat at the table. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday."  
        He waited. She wasn't forthcoming. He prodded. "I said a lot of things yesterday, which one in particular were you thinking about?" He was pretty sure he knew. After all, the baster was a dead giveaway. Even he'd heard of that trick.   
        She bit her lip, and drew a pattern on the table with a fingertip. "I, well, about Ray wanting kids."  
        Yep. Dead on target. "And?"  
        "And, well, I was thinking maybe, maybe I could help."  
        There it was. He started to smile. Setting the bowl down, he went and took her hands in his. "Maggie, that's incredibly generous of you, and I appreciate the offer more than I can say, but it's really not necessary. If, and when, it becomes an issue, we'll deal with it then."  
        She sighed and looked into his eyes, revealing hints of familiar, though now-distant pain there. "Ben, I thought about this all night," she confessed, her voice a whisper. "I'd like to do this for you, I really would. You two saved my life, my career, everything. Without you I'd most likely be dead, or rotting in jail somewhere. Not only that, but you've invited me into your life, both of you, without reservation. You're my family, the family I always wanted to have, and this means so much to you, and to him. And since I'm your sister, it would almost be like it _was_ your own."  
        "Maggie, you don't owe us anything," he said, concerned. "Please don't feel you do."  
        "Oh, no! I didn't mean it that way. I know I don't owe you, I was .just trying to explain why I wanted to be able to do this for you, to give something you might not otherwise ever have. It could work, you know it could. If you requested a posting here, then you and Ray could be here to help, to participate. . . Let me give you this, please?"  
        "Maggie," Ben said gently. "Ray and I are going back to Chicago, you know that."  
        She sighed. "Yes, I know. But, Ben, Ray seems happy here ."  
        "Ray is happy here," came a voice from the doorway. "But the place is probably gonna burn down if ya don't get those whatever-they-are's off the stove."  
        Startled, Ben turned first to see Ray in the door, then swivelled around to find smoke rising in plumes from two carbonizing pancakes. He quickly grabbed the spatula and removed them from the heat, flipping them neatly into the sink and pouring water on them to stop the smoke. By the time he'd finished dealing with the near-disaster, Ray had moved into the room, and was looking from Ben to Maggie and back.  
        "Why do I get the feeling I missed something important?" he asked.   
        Maggie stared at him, then blushed even redder than she had when Ben had told her he'd noticed her footprints, and jumped to her feet.   
        "I'll just go get dressed," she said in strangled tones as she dashed back into the bedroom. A moment later her portable CD-player came on loudly, playing something that sounded vaguely like a cross between Cajun and Camadian Aboriginal music.   
        Ray stared after her, frowning. "She get up on the wrong side of bed this morning or what?"  
        "Or what, I think." Ben said, sighing. "I'm afraid I may have inadvertently precipitated a bit of a problem."  
        Ray put on his 'surprised' face. "You? Benton Fraser, RCMP, cause a problem? Never!"  
        Fraser sighed, exasperated. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."  
        "So, what'd ya do?"  
        Uh oh. Ben was just beginning to realize that he might be in trouble on two fronts here. "I, um . . ."  
        Ray sighed. "Oh boy. I can tell it must involve me or you wouldn't be 'umming' like that. Spit it out, Fraser. What'd ya do?"  
        "Well, she asked me if I was happy."  
        Ray's gaze grew wary. "And you said. . .?"  
        Ben smiled. "I said I was."  
        Relief bloomed in Ray's eyes, and he sighed. "So far so good. So why were you 'umming?'"  
        "Well, then she asked me if you were happy."  
        Ray thought about that, and nodded. "Okay, so what was your answer to that one?"  
        "I said I thought you were."  
        "But."  
        "But what?"  
        "I can hear it, Frase. You said you 'thought I was, but.' Didn't you?"  
        "Not exactly," Ben hedged.  
        Ray moved closer, looking into his eyes, worried. "What makes you think I'm not happy? Have I done anything? Said anything? I need to know 'cause I can't fix it if I don't know."  
        "Fraser shook his head. "No, you haven't. It was just something I remembered. Something you once told me, about why you and Stella divorced."  
        Ray frowned, thinking back, then his eyes widened. "Geez, Fraser, you remember that?"  
        Ben couldn't quite meet his gaze, and knew he was blushing. "I remember everything you ever said to me."  
        There was a moment of silence, then Ray leaned close to plant a swift kiss on his mouth before pulling back. "Dunno what I did to deserve you, Ben, but I ain't lookin' a gift-horse in the mouth. So. You told her about me, an' Stella, an' why we split?"  
        Fraser nodded.   
        "Okay. So what's that got to do with the price of tea in . . . Oh." His eyes went wide and startled, and he turned to look at the door through which Maggie had fled, then back at Fraser. His jaw dropped. "Oh shit."  
        "Er, yes. Rather." Fraser agreed, not even bothering with a perfunctory admonishment about Ray's language. It never did any good anyway.  
        "You mean to tell me she was, uh, volunteering?" Ray managed to ask.  
        "In so many words, yes," Ben confirmed.  
        Ray closed his eyes, opened them, grabbed for one of the chairs and sat down. "Well, uh. Wow. I mean� why'd she want to go an' do a thing like that for?"  
        "Because you're family, and she loves you guys."  
        They both turned to find Maggie standing there, looking determined.   
        Ray paled, then blushed. Ben could only imagine what his blood-pressure was doing.   
        "Uh . . . Hi, Maggie." Ray finally managed to stammer. "That's, um, well . . ." He ran a hand through his hair, looked desperately at Fraser, then shot to his feet. "I, uh, I think I'll just go see t' the dogs."  
        He took off like a bear was on his tail, the door banging closed behind him. Fraser stared after him, trying not to smile. Maggie looked at Ben.   
        "Scares easily, doesn't he?"  
        "Under certain conditions. Ray had a rather, well, let's just say his childhood was occasionally 'difficult.' He tends to react negatively to expressions of affection. At first, anyway. Give him a little time to get used to the idea and he'll be fine."  
        "You're sure? I mean, I don't want him running every time I walk into the room."  
        "I'm sure. After all, he doesn't run away from me."  
        She brightened. "True," she said, then her smile dimmed. "I'm sorry, Ben. You know me. Sometimes I act before I think things through. I didn't mean to cause problems."  
        "Nor did I. I think that must be a family trait. I didn't stop to think how my concerns might affect you."  
        They both sighed. Ben picked up the bowl of batter and spooned more of it onto the griddle.   
        "I'm serious, you know," Maggie said.   
        "I know," Fraser agreed, watching bubbles rise in the batter.  
        "We could make it work," she said, hesitantly.  
        Ben sighed. "We have plans, Maggie, plans that don't include staying here. We're going back to Chicago. Ray needs that, he needs to be back in his world again. I've kept him away from it long enough."  
  
  


* * *  


  
        "Isn't this where  
I came in before?" Ray asked, standing in the doorway, his arms  
crossed.  
        Ben looked  
at him. Ray lifted his chin, which should have told Fraser not to argue,  
but he did it anyway.  
        "I  
was just explaining that we're going back to Chicago. We won't be staying  
here."  
        "Izzat  
so?" Ray said, his chin lifting even further. "What if I  
wanta stay?"  
        "Ray,  
you don't need to argue just for the sake of argument."  
        "I'm  
not. I mean it, Frase. I was thinking about it last night. I like  
it here. I like the way you are here, you're . . . freer. Happier.  
More you. Y'know what's the only thing I miss from Chicago?"  
        "Police work?"  
Ben hazarded.  
        "No.  
Chinese food. Real Chinese food. Mandarin duck, kung pao chicken, mu  
shu beef, fish in ginger sauce. I could care less about going back to  
Chicago, except if you have to be there then I'd go and be happy about  
it, but damn it, Frase, I don't wanna drag you back there when I know  
you hate it, and when it means absolutely nothing to me. And the pancakes  
are burnin' again."  
        Ray  
grinned as Ben tossed a second pair of pancakes into the sink and doused  
them with a muttered curse. He was finally managing to corrupt the Mountie.  
A little. After a moment Ben turned to look at Maggie.  
        "Could  
you excuse us for a few moments?" he asked, ever polite.  
        She  
nodded. "I'll go take care of the dogs. For real," she said  
with a tiny smile in Ray's direction as she slipped quietly from the  
room, leaving them alone.  
        Ray  
stared at Fraser, his eyes lit with a slightly fractious determination.  
        "Were you planning  
to mention this to me?" Ben asked, finally.  
        "Yeah,"  
Ray said, defensively.  
        "When?  
We're supposed to leave in two weeks."  
        Ray  
sighed, and rubbed his nose. "Today, actually. I guess it hadn't  
really hit me until last night. I just got to thinkin' about how much  
I would miss the sky, and the taste of snow on the wind, and the stars.  
Then I thought about you, and how different you are here. And I thought  
about how different I am here, an' I knew. I just knew. I don't wanna  
go back to being the Ray Kowalski I was in Chicago, Fraser. I was a  
jerk."  
        "No  
you weren't, Ray."  
        "Yes  
I was."  
        "No,  
you weren't"  
        "Look  
me in the eyes and say that," Ray challenged him.  
        Fraser  
tried, and failed. He grinned sheepishly. "Oh, very well, sometimes  
you were a jerk, but not most of the time. You were just . . . "  
        "Afraid. I was  
afraid, Ben. All the time. Afraid people would find out what loser  
I was. Actually, I was pretty sure people already knew so I became a  
jerk to keep people from rubbing my nose in it. You were the first person,  
the only person, who ever treated me like I wasn't a loser, right from  
the start. I don't want to go back there, to that, to bein' a loser."  
        Fraser stared at him,  
clearly disbelieving. Ray stared back.  
        "Ray,  
I don't know what to say," Ben finally managed.  
        "Say  
'okay, we're staying.'"  
        "Ray,  
we've planned for months to go back to Chicago. You planned to go back  
to work for the department, and I at the Consulate. Why would you suddenly  
change your mind?"  
        "I  
toldja, I like it here. I like me here. I like you here."  
        "But, what would  
you do here?"  
        "I  
dunno. Get a job, I guess. Security guard or somethin'."  
        "It's  
not quite that easy. You won't be able to work, not right away."  
        "Who cares? Have  
I done a lick of work in four months?"  
        "Yes,  
you have."  
        "I  
mean the kind someone would pay me for. Not stuff like helpin' with  
the dogs, or workin' on the cabin, or makin' bad food. I got some money  
saved, I can use that 'til I can get a work permit. With the exchange  
rate, it'll amount to quite a bit."  
        "There's  
no guarantee I can get a posting in the area."  
        "Maybe  
not here, but somewhere near, I bet. You may be officially back in everybody's  
good graces again after the Muldoon thing, but I bet they don't want  
you anywhere near a city. You're too good a cop, Ben. You make everyone  
else look bad."  
        Fraser  
looked at him, startled. "Why, thank you, Ray."  
        "Yer  
welcome. But you know I'm right, doncha?"  
        Ben  
considered, and nodded, slowly. "I suspect so. I know that my  
style is considered rather unorthodox, and that not everyone is able  
to deal with it in an equitable manner." He stopped, and frowned,  
staring at Ray again. "Are you sure you really want to stay?"  
        Ray put his hands on  
Fraser's shoulders and leaned close, nose to nose. "I. Really.  
Want. To. Stay. Got it?"  
        Ben  
nodded. "Yes, Ray. I've got it."  
        "Good.  
So, let's get at it."  
        "Get  
at what, Ray?"  
        "Figgerin'  
out whatever we gotta figger out so's we can stay."  
        "Ah,  
that," Ben nodded. "After breakfast, perhaps."  
        "Breakfast  
is good," Ray agreed, feeling his stomach rumble. "Y'think  
Maggie brought up any bacon with her, or . . . oh, uh, Maggie."  
Ray finished nervously, suddenly remembering what had precipitated their  
conversation.  
        "Yes.  
Maggie." Fraser concurred, clearly feeling much the same sense  
of awkwardness that Ray did.  
        Ray  
blushed, again. "It's like, really sweet an' all, but, I mean--  
she's your sister!"  
        "Half-sister,"  
Ben corrected him. "Actually, she felt that would be a benefit.  
Since she and I share half of the same genetic legacy, in a way a child  
conceived by her, with you, would be mine as well."  
        "Hunh,  
hadn't thought of that," Ray said consideringly. "That's kinda  
cool." Then he thought about it some more, and grimaced. "But,  
Ben, I mean, her an' me . . . isn't that a little . . . kinky?"  
        Fraser looked at him  
evenly. "For that matter, Ray, I suspect many people would consider  
what you and I do to be 'a little kinky.'"  
        Ray  
chuckled. "There is that."  
        "I  
assume, based on that comment, that you're concerned that having a child  
with Maggie might violate some sort of incest taboo?"  
        "Well,  
yeah. I guess that's it." As close as he could explain, in any  
case.  
        "I don't  
believe there is any taboo which applies in this particular case. At  
least, I can think of none at the moment. The two of you are certainly  
not blood relations, and surrogacy is becoming more and more common,  
especially among family members. I've heard of similar cases in the  
news, quite frequently. Instances where a mother carries a child for  
a daughter who is unable to do so, or a sister for a sister. It's really  
not all that uncommon."  
        Ray  
considered that for a moment. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I  
have heard of stuff like that, too. Guess it's not that weird."  
        "Not at all,"  
Fraser assured him.  
        Ray  
studied his face closely, frowning slightly. "So, are you sayin'  
you wouldn't mind? Really?"  
        Ben  
looked at him solemnly. "No, Ray. I wouldn't. Not if both you  
and Maggie were sure it was the course you wished to pursue. I know  
how much it means to you."  
        Ray  
thought some more. He hadn't thought about kids in a long time. Hadn't  
allowed himself to. When he'd fallen in love with Ben, he'd put that  
dream aside, albeit a little wistfully. He'd grown up a lot after he'd  
lost Stella, and found Ben, and realized that you couldn't force things  
to happen a certain way no matter how much you wanted to. He'd resigned  
himself to being childless. Having Fraser was enough.  
        Now,  
after coming to terms with the fact that that particular dream was not  
going to come true, this was a bolt out of the blue. A baby. His.  
With Maggie, who was about as much like Ben as she could get and not  
actually be Ben. A baby who would share some of Fraser's genes, sort  
of like it was his, too. He found he was grinning like an idiot, and  
looked over at Ben, needing to be absolutely certain.  
        "You  
really don't mind?"  
        Ben  
put his hands on Ray's shoulders and leaned close. "I. Really.  
Don't. Mind."  
        "Oh,"  
Ray said, grinning at Ben's 'Ray' impression. "Cool."  
        "Is it what you  
want?"  
        He nodded.  
"Yeah. I think it is. I really do."  
        "I  
think it's a wonderful idea," Fraser said softly. "This way  
you get the one thing you wanted which I could never give you."  
        Ray fretted, suddenly  
worried that his desire for a child somehow might make Ben think he loved  
him less. "Ben, you know you give me everything I need."  
        Ben smiled understandingly.  
"I do, Ray, but not everything you want."  
        "I  
don't need this. I only need you."  
        "Ray,  
I understand. I'm not hurt, I'm not offended. Actually, I like the  
idea."  
        "You  
do?"  
        "Yes,  
I do." His eyes met Ray's candidly. "I like the idea of having  
a blood connection to you, however tenuous it might be."  
        Ray  
felt tears stinging in his eyes, and reached out to hug the Mountie,  
hiding that fact. He might be swish enough to be in love with Ben, but  
he still had trouble crying in front of anyone. "God, Frase. I  
don't deserve you."  
        Ben  
hugged him back. "Yes, you do. And more."  
        They  
heard the front door open, and separated, slowly.  
        "Safe  
yet?" Maggie called from the front door. "I can find something  
else to do if I need to."  
        "Safe,"  
Ray called. "C'mon in."  
        She  
stepped inside, and they waited while she took off her coat and shoes,  
and then moved hesitantly into the main cabin.  
        "So.  
Things okay now?" she asked, biting her lip nervously, just like  
Fraser always did. "I didn't mess things up, did I?"  
        "No,  
Maggie, you didn't mess things up at all," Ray said. "We needed  
t'talk about some stuff, you just made it happen faster."  
        "Oh.  
Okay. Good." She still looked nervous. Ray figured he knew why.  
        "So, how'd  
you like to have me an' Ben hangin' around in yer hair all the time?"  
        She looked from him,  
to Ben, and back, and started to smile. "Really? You're not joking?  
You're going to stay here?"  
        "Well,  
we can't make any assumptions as to my posting," Fraser said, injecting  
a little reality. "I can put in for a transfer, but we don't know  
where I'll end up. It may not be anywhere near you."  
        "I  
can make sure it is, Ben. I'll just put my paperwork in first."  
She looked at Ray, and her face went pink. "I mean, if... um,  
never mind."  
        "Maggie,"  
Ben said softly.  
        "What?"  
        "We liked your idea."  
        Her eyes lit with hope.  
"You... you did? Really?"  
        Ben  
nodded. Ray nodded too, avoiding looking at her. It was kind of embarrassing.  
        "Yes. There are  
a great many details to be worked out, first, but provided we can do  
so, we think it would be a... worthwhile undertaking."  
        She  
grabbed a chair and sat down, abruptly. "Oh my. Oh my. I'm..."  
She ran a hand through her hair, and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm  
just a little overwhelmed. I didn't think you would... I mean, I was  
sure you wouldn't... "  
        Ben  
frowned, and Ray could guess what he was about to say. Apparently, so  
could Maggie.  
        "No!  
I didn't mean it that way!" she exclaimed. "You get that  
thought right out of your mind, Ben Fraser! Of course I meant it! Every  
word. About my offer, I mean. Oh, drat it, I'm not making sense. What  
I meant was that my offer was made in complete sincerity, and with full  
intention of carrying through with it should you agree. I just, well,  
I didn't dare let myself hope you would take me up on it. I figured  
you would think I was nuts!"  
        Ray  
grinned. "Why should you be different from the rest of us?"  
        "How true,"  
she laughed, shaking her head.  
        Ben's  
expression went serious all the sudden, and he studied her intently.  
"Maggie, are you sure you can do this? Have you really thought  
about it? You will be giving up your child for us to raise, a child  
you've carried in your body, sheltered, given life to. The mother-child  
bond is a strong one, that won't be an easy thing to do."  
        She  
sighed. "Yes, I have thought about that, Ben, and no, it won't  
be easy. I suppose it will depend, in part, on how we handle it. Will  
we be honest with him, or her? Will they know that I'm their mother,  
or will that part be a secret?"  
        "Well,  
of course we'd tell them!" Ray said, sounding amazed. "Why  
wouldn't we?"  
        She  
shrugged. "I don't know. I've heard of people who did something  
similar and pretended the mother had died or something. I just wasn't  
sure what you would want to do. Being honest makes it easier, because  
I then wouldn't have to pretend. And we are family, after all. It's  
not like we won't see each other." She bit her lip, and looked  
worried. "I mean, we would see each other, right? I could still  
visit?"  
        "Anytime,"  
Ray said firmly, looking at Ben, who nodded.  
        "Well  
then, it should be okay," she said not sounding quite as decisive  
as she probably meant to.  
        "Maggie,  
what if I were posted elsewhere, and Ray and I had to move? Or if you  
were? Could you handle that? Will you be able to let us make all the  
decisions?"  
        She  
took a deep breath and let it out. "I think if I start right now,  
from the very beginning, to think of this as your baby, not mine, that  
I can do it."  
        "And  
if you can't? It could cause a rift between us, Maggie. I never had  
a family growing up, and I don't want to lose the one I have now."  
        She got up and went to  
him, putting her arms around him in a hug before drawing back to look  
into his eyes. "I know that. I feel the same. And you won't,  
I promise you." She turned to look at Ray, and held out a hand.  
"Let's get clear on this right now. We're family, the best kind,  
the kind you pick yourself. We won't let anything happen that would  
change that, right?"  
        "Right,"  
Ray echoed, letting her draw him in, making it a three-way embrace.  
        She looked at Ben,  
eyebrows lifted. He nodded, slowly.  
        "Right."  
        They stood, unspeaking  
for a moment, then she let them go and stepped back. "So. Now what?"  
        "Now, I believe  
we should have breakfast. We have plenty of time to start thinking about  
logistics later."

* * *  


  
        "Okay, so Maggie  
sends you to take her leave request to Frobisher, and then on the spot  
you volunteer to take over for her until she's ready to come back, right?"  
Ray asked, gesticulating with his fork for emphasis. When he finished  
the sentence, he used the utensil for its intended purpose, picking up  
the last bite of pancake off his plate and conveying it to his mouth.  
        Fraser forced himself  
not to watch the muscles flexing in his jaw as he chewed. Watching someone  
eat wasn't supposed to be erotic. "It does seem a logical sequence,"  
Ben said grudgingly. Maggie and Ray had refused to wait until after  
breakfast, but he had to admit, they were coming up with good ideas.  
        "And Sergeant Frobisher  
is more likely than many to approve such a request," Maggie put  
in. "Since he was your, I mean, _our_ father's friend and  
partner."  
        "There  
ya go," Ray said, grinning. "Networking. Good stuff. So,  
then I gotta apply for a green-card, or whatever it is you do here."  
        An idea came to Fraser  
out of the blue and he looked at Ray thoughtfully. "Actually, Ray,  
there is a more efficient way of obtaining citizenship for you,"  
he said, before he really analyzed it. "You and Maggie could get  
married."  
         _"What?"_  
Ray and Maggie gasped in unison, shocked.  
        "It's  
really quite logical," Ben explained earnestly. "Marriage  
to a citizen would confer all attendant citizenship benefits on you,  
and in addition it would mean there would be no question as to your having  
equal custodial rights to the child."  
        Maggie  
frowned thoughtfully, but Ray just stared at him for a long time. Too  
long a time. Ben was getting uncomfortable. Finally Ray shook his head,  
stood up, and went to the door, stepping into his boots, pulling on his  
coat.  
        "Ray?"  
Ben said, puzzled and worried, getting to his feet.  
        "Just  
need some air, Frase," Ray said, his voice flat, unemotional, as  
he stepped outside and closed the door, leaving Fraser standing there,  
not sure if he should stay, or follow. He looked at Maggie, who was  
looking nearly as poleaxed as Ray had.  
        "Um,  
Ben, that was a bit, sudden." Maggie said quietly. "It probably  
would have been a good idea to speak to us on an individual basis before  
you decided to spring that on us."  
        "But,  
it is logical," Ben said, at a loss. "I don't . . . why would  
he . . ." Fraser said, more to himself than to her. Then he knew.  
Oh no. No, Ray wouldn't have thought that, would he? But he knew he  
would. For all his frenetic energy and bluster, Ray was a lot more  
fragile than he looked. Lately he'd seemed so much stronger that Ben  
had forgotten that in the deepest places, he was still sensitive.  
        "I'm very sorry,  
Maggie. I didn't mean that the way it came out. Look, I'll be back  
when I've fixed things with Ray, however long it takes. And then I'll  
fix things with you."  
        Maggie  
nodded, and Ben took off after Ray. It wasn't hard to find his trail.  
The freshly made prints in the snow led north, into the woods. He headed  
after Ray, moving as quickly as he could. After a few hundred yards  
he realized he should go back for snowshoes, but didn't want to spare  
the time. Besides, Ray hadn't taken any, so he wouldn't be moving very  
fast, either, although he seemed to have covered a remarkable amount  
distance for the few minutes lead he had.  
        He  
stopped and studied the tracks again, frowning. Ray was running, crossing  
the snow in long, ground-eating strides. Fraser started to be afraid.  
This time of year the days were very short. If Ray went very far, he  
could end up outside after dark. He knew Ray had learned a lot in the  
last few months, but had he learned enough to survive alone, without  
supplies, through a long sub-arctic night? He didn't want to have to  
find out. He had to find him first. Make him safe. Make him understand.  
If that was even possible.  
        Fraser  
couldn't believe he'd been so thoughtless. After promising he'd never  
hurt him again, he did this? Damn it. Would he never learn? He'd done  
quite a few incredibly stupid things in his life, but this had to take  
the prize. It had been sheer idiocy to think out loud like that, without  
stopping to analyze the potential implications and assumptions that his  
words might provoke.  
        The  
fear that he had just done something irrevocable was far greater than  
his fear for Ray's safety. He knew he could find Ray before the night  
was out, and make sure he was safe. But could he fix what he'd done?  
Was there any way to fix things now? He stopped, eyes closed, the ache  
in his chest paralyzing. No. Please, no. Don't let me have done that.  
Don't let me have lost him. I can't lose him. He's part of me. I can't  
lose him, I just can't. The words became a chant, a mantra against loss,  
somehow it felt like if he said it enough, it could avert the potential,  
remove it from the universe.  
        A  
shiver shook him, he was surprisingly cold from about knees to upper-thighs.  
With a start, Ben realized he had sunk to his knees in the snow. He  
should get up, go on, keep looking. But the fear was so strong, stronger  
than he was. He understood suddenly. He didn't fear for Ray's safety.  
He'd taught him well, and he would be fine.  
        No,  
what he feared was having his soul ripped out of him again. It would  
be far worse this time. This time he had been so sure, so completely  
committed. There had been no doubt, no guilt, no hesitation at all between  
them. Just love. He'd taken that for granted. He'd forgotten how fragile  
Ray's trust was. And he might have just destroyed it, blundering around  
like a bull moose. He hoped not. He hoped it was one of those volatile  
Ray flare-ups that quickly faded, but he feared it might be more.

* * *  


  
        Ray walked aimlessly,  
weaving around trees, not heading anyplace in particular. He'd just  
had to get out of there. He couldn't be around Fraser right now. Or  
Maggie. He stopped for a moment and took off his mittens, plunging  
his hands into the snow for a moment, then pulling them free and placing  
them over his eyes. The cold short-circuited the tears. Better.  
        Damn, he hated crying.  
His dad had taught him that it was sissy, unmanly. 'Oh, like getting  
fucked by Fraser is manly?' a little voice in his head taunted. God,  
he hated that voice. It only came out when he was so far down he couldn't  
even figure out which way was up any more. Like now.  
        He  
leaned against a tree and stared up into its dark boughs, shaking his  
head. God. To go so far up, and then get dropped so far down, both  
in one day. How could Ben have suggested that? How could he have even  
thought about it? Did he mean so little to Ben that he could just be  
passed around like some kind of party favor?  
        Thinking  
back over the day, he started to wonder. Ben had resisted Ray's idea  
of staying a lot more than Ray had expected. What if Ben hadn't planned  
to stay in Chicago after he went back with him? What if he'd planned  
to get Ray settled again, then go back home, without him? Maybe Fraser  
was sick of him. Maybe he figured if he encouraged Ray to be with Maggie,  
if they did the baby thing, he'd be able to get rid of him more easily,  
no emotional fuss. Give the idiot a new toy to play with and he won't  
notice when you leave. Geezus, he'd never have suspected Ben capable  
of such perfidy.  
        Crap.  
He'd just used the word 'perfidy' in his own interior monologue. He  
was infected with Mountie-ese. He had a feeling it was permanent, too.  
It would always be there to remind him just how stupid he'd been. He  
smacked his the back of his head into the tree, trying to knock some  
sense into himself. The tree promptly dumped a shower of snow onto him  
from its lower branches. He sputtered, and wiped snow of his face, and  
as he did, reality hit him in the face just like the snow had. Wait  
a minute. What he was thinking simply wasn't like Fraser. At all.  
Ben would never do something like that. He didn't have it in him.  
        Okay, stop and think  
about it. Was it possible that he'd misunderstood? Could he have overreacted?  
Could it be that Ben wasn't trying to get rid of him, but that he really  
had just been laying out what he felt to be a practical course of action?  
        Yes. It was possible.  
All of it. Logic Boy was absolutely capable of such a gaffe. And God  
knew Ray was certainly prone to overreacting, especially where his own  
sense of self-worth was concerned. Yep. The more he thought about it,  
the more he realized exactly what had happened. Stupid, thickheaded  
Mountie. If he wasn't so damned loveable, someone, probably himself,  
would have killed him years ago out of sheer aggravation. Would he ever,  
ever, learn to stop and think before he jumped off a cliff?  
        Ray  
sighed, watching his breath steam out, giving substance to his sigh.  
Fraser wasn't the only one with a habit of leaping before he looked.  
Way to go, Ray. Gettin' a lot of exercise jumpin' to conclusions there.  
All those maybes he'd been thinking... well, maybe it was him that was  
the idiot. He turned and started to backtrack his own trail. Undoubtedly  
he'd run into Fraser looking for him. He was sure Fraser would have  
followed him. In fact, he was kind of surprised that Fraser hadn't already  
found him.  
        The  
sunlight and shadow patches were such a contrast that it sometimes made  
it hard to see, but he stuck to his footprints and did okay. Following  
his own tracks he rounded a tree whose girth his arms could never span,  
and promptly fell on his face in the snow as he tripped over something.  
Irritated, he rolled over to see what he'd fallen over, and his breath  
caught. What the hell was Fraser doing on his knees in the snow like  
that? Fear flared. Was he hurt? Instantly he was scrambling over to  
Fraser's side, pulling off his mittens so he could try to feel him through  
the thick parka, looking for broken bones.  
        "Fraser!  
What the . . . you okay?"  
        Fraser  
nodded and turned away, getting to his feet. Ray saw that his jeans  
were soaked through from knees to most of the way up his thighs. He  
must've been on his knees for awhile, to get that wet. Why? Had he  
turned an ankle or something? Frowning, Ray reached for Fraser as he  
started to walk away, grabbing him by the back of his parka.  
        Ben  
pulled away, or tried to, actively struggling to get away. The parka's  
hood slipped back, and he saw the gleam of moisture on Fraser's face.  
Tears. Oh, shit. Not hurt. Not physically hurt, anyway. Fraser would  
never cry over anything merely physical. You could shoot him, stab him,  
or beat him and he'd never shed a tear; but he cried when he was hurt,  
inside, when the pain was too much to hold in.  
        Ray,  
you suck, he berated himself. You're a complete and total shit. How  
could you have possibly thought Ben would ever be as big a jerk as you  
are? Ben is the kindest, most considerate person on the planet, and  
after this long you ought to know better than to go flying off the handle  
like that. Just because you're an insecure ass doesn't mean that you  
get to hurt Fraser.  
        Fraser  
had stopped struggling. Obviously he hadn't wanted Ray to see him, but  
once it was done, there was no point in further resistance. Ray let  
go of his coat and stepped back, feeling awkward, not quite knowing what  
to do with himself. Should he try for a hug, or give Fraser some space?  
He opted for space.  
        "Ben,  
I'm sorry. I just got a little weird there. You know I'm kinda flaky  
that way. It just takes me awhile to get my head on straight. It's  
okay. I understand now. It was just kind of, well, a surprise."  
        Fraser shook his head,  
brushing a hand across his face, chasing tears before they froze. "No,  
Ray. I should apologize to you. I spoke without thinking. It was my  
fault."  
        "No  
it wasn't. I overreacted, like I always do. I was a jerk. See? I  
toldja I was a jerk. I'm sorry."  
        "Ray,  
your reaction was perfectly understandable, especially to anyone who  
knows you as I do. Had I stopped to consider what effect my statement  
might have, I would not have said it."  
        "Damnit,  
Frase, it wasn't your fault! It was mine! Got it?"  
        Fraser  
got that mulish look around his mouth. "Ray, there's no need for  
you to accept blame where none is deserved. I made an error in judgement  
and accept the consequences of my actions."  
        Ray  
felt a flush rising through him, irritation, anger, exasperation, all  
combining to raise his blood pressure and his temperature. "Fraser,  
I'm the one who's got a problem. Not you. Now quit tryin' ta make me  
feel better!"  
        "I  
assure you, Ray, I had no intention of. . . "  
        Fraser  
stopped suddenly. Ray knew what had happened. He had intended to make  
Ray feel better, and it was either lie about it or shut up.  
        "Ha!  
I won!" Ray crowed with a grin.  
        "It  
wasn't a contest, Ray," Fraser said with a hint of exasperation.  
        Exasperated was  
good. Anything was better than Fraser in pain. Ray reached out, tentatively,  
put a hand on Fraser's shoulder. "We okay?"  
        Fraser's  
gaze searched his face. "I don't know, Ray, you tell me."  
        Ray ducked his head,  
embarrassed. "I was just bein' stupid. You know how I am."  
        "I should, but for  
a moment, I forgot. And that was indeed my fault."  
        Ray's  
glared at him. "Don't start with that again!"  
        A  
slight smile tugged at the corner of the Mountie's mouth. "Shall  
we call it a draw, and agree that we were equally at fault?"  
        Ray considered that,  
and finally sighed. "Yeah, okay. I guess. I'm sorry, Ben, I really  
am. I was just . . ." He paused, took a deep breath, and let it  
out. "I was just scared."  
        "I  
know that, and I'm sorry too. I didn't stop to consider the emotional  
ramifications of my words." He was silent for a moment, then he  
caught Ben's hand in his own. "Ray, I love you. I would never  
want to send you away. You do realize, I hope, that if the government  
recognized same-sex marriages, I would have proposed that instead?"  
        Ray stared at him, stunned.  
"What?"  
        "I  
said, if the govern . . ."  
        Ray  
held up a hand. "Fraser, did you just ask me to marry you?"  
        Fraser blushed. "Ah,  
yes, I suppose I did, after a fashion."  
        Ray  
stared some more, shaking his head. "Me?" he finally asked,  
incredulously.  
        "Yes,  
you. I feel we are in a committed relationship, don't you?"  
        "I do. Though sometimes  
I wonder if it's more like we ought to _be_ committed," he  
flashed a quick grin at his partner, who smiled back.  
        "You  
often seem to doubt your sanity, but I must say I've seen no sign of  
mental disturbance in you."  
        Ray  
chuckled. "That's 'cause you ain't inside my head. But, jokes  
aside, you really would? If it was possible?" He tried to keep  
the wistful note from his voice, but didn't quite manage it.  
        Fraser  
smiled, his eyes warm. "In a heartbeat, Ray."  
        A  
warm glow spread through Ray, making the cold of the snow and air meaningless.  
"God, Fraser. I love you."  
        "I'm  
not a god, Ray." Ben said, a little half-smile on his beautiful  
mouth.  
        Ray laughed.  
"Love god, yeah, y'are. You got the most impressive recovery time  
of anybody I ever heard of. But that's not what I meant and you know  
it."  
        "I  
know it."  
        "Thought  
so." He was quiet for a moment, then he looked back at Ben, grinning.  
"Just want you to know, if you'd asked me, I'd've said yes. But  
don't ever suggest that other thing again, okay?"  
        Ben  
nodded. "Frankly, I shouldn't have suggested it to begin with,  
as it quite probably constitutes fraud against the Canadian government."  
        Ray widened his eyes,  
feigning shock. "Fraud? You, Dudley Do-Right, suggested we commit  
fraud? Okay, gimme yer cuffs, this is a citizen's arrest. I'm takin'  
you in."  
        "In  
where, Ray?"  
        "In  
the barn, where I can get those cold, wet jeans off you and make you  
hot and wet instead."  
        Fraser's  
gaze warmed, his mouth curving. "I don't believe that's standard  
protocol for any sort of arrest, Ray."  
        "Yeah?  
Well, you know me, I don't much believe in protocol. Besides, ain't  
it against the Geneva Convention or somethin' to let a prisoner get frostbite?" 

* * *  


  
        Ray was as good as his  
word. He dragged Fraser back to the barn, wrestled him out of his frozen  
jeans, and set to work warming his chilled skin. With his hands. With  
his mouth. Oh, God, with his mouth. That sulky, petulant mouth that  
could give a stone statue an erection. Ray teased, licked, sucked,  
and nibbled, and outright bit. Until Fraser was no longer cold, because  
he was on fire and threatening to explode, volcanically.  
        Trying  
to gain a little distance, Ben closed his eyes, so he could no longer  
see the sultry heat in Ray's blue eyes, or the flex of muscles in his  
jaw when he sucked, and the way his eyes half-closed in concentration  
as his tongue stroked and swirled. It didn't help, because he could  
still see all of it, in his mind's eye. The ache to be possessed grew  
strong, the need to yield, to be filled and taken. He reached down,  
put his fingers against Ray's cheek, feeling the roughness of morning  
stubble. He hadn't shaved yet. Golden, on golden skin, it hardly showed.  
        "Ray, Ray,  
please . . . I need. . ." he gasped, unable to complete his thought,  
as teeth nipped at him, then fingers closed firmly around that spot that  
backed his desperation down a notch. Finally Ray let his mouth slide  
up, then off, reluctantly releasing his prize.  
        "It's  
okay, Ben, whatever you need, whatever you want, I'll give it to you,"  
Ray whispered.  
        As  
if he'd read Ben's mind, Ray put a hand on Ben's hip and rolled him over.  
His hands shifted to cup the muscular curves of his buttocks, separating  
them. Stubble rasped faintly, a startling contrast to the hot, silky  
touch of tongue on acutely sensitive flesh. His tongue moved, circling,  
flicking, probing until Ben was nearly weeping with need, his hips pushing  
rhythmically into the bedding. Ray's strong hands kneaded his glutes,  
then left him for a moment. He moaned, wanting them back, needing them  
back. Then Ray finished with whatever had distracted him and one hand  
shifted, long, lean fingers slid into him, slick-wet, and demanding,  
pushing deep, finding.  
        Ben  
moaned, and shuddered, so close, so close, only sheer determination kept  
him from finishing then. He had to wait, had to wait, needed more, needed  
Ray. Inside. Fisting his hands in the blankets, he pushed back onto  
his hands and knees, lifting himself, spreading his thighs wider, pleading  
with his body since his mouth could no longer form coherent words.  
        Fingers stroked one last  
time, then withdrew. He whimpered, needy, empty, then Ray was there,  
insistent and irresistible. Not that he wanted to resist, no, all he  
wanted was to yield. And he did, his body opening to that insistence  
easily now, after all this time together, although there was always that  
moment of almost-pain there at the start. Then it eased, and he was  
filled, and he lost contact with logic, and reality and just felt.  
        Ray moved in him, deep,  
deeper, until he could go no deeper. Ben moaned. Ray's hands gripped  
Ben's hips, holding him hard as he pulled back, then eased in again.  
Ben put his forehead against the bedding and braced himself, knowing  
Ray would read that in him, knowing he would understand what he wanted,  
what he needed. Again. Again. Harder, faster now, so deep, so good.  
Ray slipped one hand beneath him, finding the rigid length of his cock,  
fingers wrapping around him, stroking hard, and fast, echoing the pounding  
thrusts inside him.  
        In  
the quiet of the barn their harsh, rapid gasps and panting moans sounded  
loud, as did the little almost-grunts Ben made each time Ray went hilt-deep  
inside him. He was dying, dying, every nerve screaming for release,  
and then, finally, he was coming hard into Ray's hand, hot and slick,  
the pleasure nearly excruciating; and Ray was coming too, whispering  
his name over and over.  
        Finally,  
both spent, and limp with the catharsis of orgasm, Ray turned them onto  
their sides and wrapped his arms around Ben, still in him, wrapped around  
him like a blanket. He put his lips against Ben's neck, and kissed and  
sucked the tangle of short, sweaty curls there, then sighed.  
        "God,  
I love you Fraser."  
        Ben  
smiled, reassured, and covered the hands on his midriff with his own.  
"And I you, Ray."  
        "Good.  
We just gotta remember that." He sighed, and a little shiver went  
through him.  
        "Are  
you cold?" Ben asked, reaching for a blanket.  
        "No,  
not cold," Ray said, his hand covering Fraser's, stopping him from  
drawing the woollen fabric higher.  
        "What,  
then?"  
        "Nothin'.  
Just leftovers, I think."  
        "Leftover  
what?" Fraser asked, puzzled.  
        There  
was a long moment of silence before Ray finally answered. "Fear.  
God, when you said that, about me marryin' Maggie, I was so scared.  
I thought you didn't want me any more."  
        Fraser  
found Ray's hand, laced his fingers through slimmer ones. "Never.  
I love you."  
        "Even  
people who love you sometimes go away," Ray whispered.  
        God,  
how true that was. He still remembered that pain. Fraser nodded. "I  
know. But I won't."  
        "Same  
here," Ray said quietly.  
        He  
was quiet for a while longer. Ben could feel a slight tension building  
in him, and waited, knowing Ray was working up to speaking again, to  
something important.  
        "Ben?"  
        "Yes, Ray."  
        "Let's just forget  
about the baby thing."  
        Ben  
absorbed that, and it made no sense. He knew Ray wanted a child. Had  
wanted one for a long time, badly. He'd been pleased and excited by  
the prospect. Why change his mind now? Slowly he eased away, and turned  
to look into his face. Ray was looking up at the ceiling, deliberately  
avoiding Ben's eyes. Ben reached over, grabbed his chin, and turned  
his face, forcing Ray to look at him. He read a lot in those eyes.  
Love. Regret. Fear. Doubt.  
        "Ray?  
Why?"  
        "Lotsa  
reasons, Frase. Hell, what do I know about being a parent? My folks  
weren't exactly great examples, Dad well, you know him, and mom still  
thinks denial is a river in Egypt. I wouldn't want t' be like that."  
        Ben propped his head  
on one hand, and studied Ray for a moment, choosing his words carefully.  
"Clearly they weren't entirely unsuccessful parents, as you are  
a fine man, Ray. As far as that goes, we both have excellent examples  
of how not to parent, and can, I believe, can reason out the proper course  
from there. We would be at no greater disadvantage than any other new  
parent ever is. So, is that your only reason?"  
        "Well,  
no."  
        "What,  
then?"  
        "I  
. . . I just don't want anything, or anyone, to maybe come between us."  
        Well. That was cryptic.  
He mulled it over, and came up with too many options. "Are you  
speaking of the child, Ray?"  
        "A  
baby. Maggie. Anyone."  
        "You're  
worried that it might change things between us?"  
        Ray  
nodded, biting his lip.  
        "Ray,  
no relationship is static. Relationships evolve on a daily, even moment-by-moment  
basis. Things will inevitably change between us, no, wait," he  
held up a hand, silencing Ray's protest. "I don't mean that we  
would ever cease to care for one another. I don't believe that will  
ever happen. But didn't we both learn some time ago that we can still  
feel love for others without it affecting our relationship?"  
        Ray looked at him narrowly.  
"You're talking Stella, and Vecchio."  
        "Yes,  
I am."  
        Ray sighed.  
"Okay, yeah. You got a point."  
        "Anything  
else?"  
        "Um.  
Yeah. One thing."  
        "That  
being?"  
        "I'm,  
ah, not sure I could do it. With Maggie, I mean. First off, it's,  
like, well, cheatin' on you. And second off, It's just too weird. I  
mean, she's yer sister. Y'oughta be beltin' me for even thinkin' about  
it."  
        Fraser  
grinned, amused. He'd forgotten that Ray had missed out on certain key  
elements that morning, and didn't realize that Maggie had a slightly  
less traditional method in mind for conception. He couldn't resist teasing,  
though.  
        "Ray,  
she's a grown woman, not an inexperienced child. She can do as she likes.  
If she were to take up with someone clearly dangerous I might feel compelled  
to intervene, but I could hardly object to her being with you, since  
I know you would never hurt her. As for you being unfaithful, well,  
since you have my permission, it hardly counts, does it?"  
        "No.  
I guess not." He fidgeted for a moment, then sent Ben a slightly  
panic-stricken look. "But geez, Fraser, do you know how long it's  
been since I was with a woman? What if I don't remember how?"  
        Ben couldn't help it.  
He laughed. Laughed until tears came. Ray was starting to look annoyed  
by the time he finally managed to control himself.  
        "What's  
so funny?" Ray snapped.  
        "You,  
Ray. You can do to me what you just did, and worry about technique?  
I don't think you have anything to fret about. The method is pretty  
much the same, just a slightly more, er, northerly destination. You  
are an excellent lover, Ray. You believe strongly in reciprocity and  
always take the time to make sure that your partner is pleasured, as  
well as yourself. I don't believe anyone would ever come away unsatisfied  
from making love with you."  
        Ray  
went as red as Fraser's dress tunic and grinned sheepishly. "Way  
to give a guy a complex, Frase."  
        "I  
was merely being truthful, Ray."  
        "Stop!  
Enough! I mean, geez, like I'm supposed to fit my head through the door  
now?"  
        Fraser  
deliberately dropped his gaze downward. "It should fit as well  
as ever, Ray."  
        Ray  
groaned at the implied pun, rolling his eyes. Fraser debated telling  
him about the basting syringe, and found himself thinking that it was  
a terribly sterile way to conceive a child. Effective, perhaps, but  
devoid of feeling. Would it not be better for a child to be conceived  
in pleasure and caring, than through a clinical procedure? He knew it  
was completely irrational, that many very-much-wanted children were conceived  
through artificial means, but it just seemed so impersonal.  
        Thinking  
about it like that, he began to understand Ray's dilemma. The thought  
of physical intimacy between Ray and Maggie engendered a strange mixture  
of feelings in him, including an unexpectedly strong surge of jealousy.  
He really didn't like the idea of sharing Ray. He had read that it was  
rare for a woman to conceive on the first try. Sometimes it took months.  
        Could he do that?  
Share Ray, not just once, but on an ongoing basis? Also, would it be  
fair to Maggie? Might it not be cruel, in a way, to give her the illusion  
of a relationship which had no possibility of continuation? For that  
matter, there was a tiny edge of insecurity in him that worried it could  
open a door they might not be able to close again. What if Ray and Maggie  
came to care for each other? Where would that leave him?  
        Then  
he remembered the way Ray's face had lit up when he'd realized that he  
really might be able to achieve that long-relinquished dream. Could  
he take that away from him? No. He would do whatever it took to make  
it happen. Whatever it took.  
        Besides,  
it would be Maggie's call as to how to proceed. She might have no interest  
in all at doing things in a non-clinical fashion. It hadn't been all  
that long since Casey's death, and she had loved him, even if he hadn't  
been who she thought he was. She should have options, though, no matter  
which she chose.  
        "You're  
too quiet, Fraser. What's up?"  
        "I  
was just thinking about Maggie," Ben confessed. "My ill-conceived  
suggestion was as much of a shock to her as it was to you."  
        "Oh yeah,"  
Ray agreed. "I saw her face. So you need to go talk to her, too?"  
        "I'm afraid I do,  
Ray."  
        Ray sighed,  
and stretched. "Okay, I'm pretty wiped right now anyway,"  
he yawned widely. "Go see her, I'll just take a little nap."  
        Fraser shook his head  
in mock disgust. "Typically male, falling asleep right after sex."  
        "Hey, whattaya want?  
I _am_ male! But if you wanna go another round, I could prob'ly  
wake up," Ray said, hopefully.  
        Ben  
chuckled. "Go ahead and sleep. I'll be back in a little while,  
I hope."  
        "Bring  
food," Ray suggested, reaching for the blankets, pulling them up  
around himself as he curled onto his side, head pillowed on his arm.  
"Something other than pemmican. Stuff always gets stuck in my teeth."  
        Fraser found himself  
wondering where the nearest Chinese restaurant was, and how long it would  
take to get there. Ridiculous thought.

* * *  


  
        Maggie had cleaned up  
the breakfast dishes and made fresh coffee while Ben was out looking  
for Ray. Through the kitchen window she'd seen them return, and head  
into the barn. It looked as if things were going well, since Ray had  
been laughing, and half-carrying Ben, who had been walking like his knees  
were frozen stiff. She wasn't sure she wanted to know why. That had  
been some time ago. She supposed they were doing the 'kiss and make  
up' thing. Her mouth curved in a smile, remembering similar sessions  
between her, and Casey. She missed that. God did she. No, don't think  
about it. It only makes you sad. Think about Ben and Ray, instead.  
        She was glad that  
their fight hadn't been serious. It was clear that Ben was completely  
committed to Ray, even if Ray was sometimes too insecure to realize it.  
Poor Ray. She remembered Ben's comment about his childhood, and sighed.  
Too many people seemed to have had that, Ben among them, though he would  
probably deny that if pressed. Still, it must have been hard being raised  
by his stern grandparents after losing his mother so young, with his  
father far more absent than present.  
        At  
least she'd had her mum, through all the growing-up years, anyway. Her  
death had been hard enough as an adult, but not so hard as it would have  
been if she'd died when Maggie was just a kid. She didn't know Ray's  
story, but she knew Ben well enough to know that if he said it was difficult,  
it had probably been worse than that. Although he'd grown into an oddly  
attractive man, she imagined he'd been just the sort of child who was  
always chosen last for games, and teased for his intelligence and appearance.  
        She sipped her coffee,  
and then stopped, looking into the cup with the odd realization that  
if they did go through with this, she wouldn't be drinking coffee much  
longer. She'd have to cut out all caffeine. No more beer, or wine  
with dinner. She wondered if chocolate was safe. Surely just a little  
wouldn't hurt.  
        A  
knock at the door startled her momentarily, then she knew it must be  
Ben.  
        "Come  
in!" She called, and the door opened to admit Ben, looking tousled,  
his face, especially his mouth, a bit abraded. She had to stifle a grin.  
Beard-burn. Definitely kiss-and-make-up. She pretended not to notice.  
Diefenbaker trotted in behind Fraser just before he closed the door.  
        "Hi, Ben, everything  
okay?"  
        "I  
believe so."  
        "Good."  
        "Very," Ben  
said, smiling in a way that made her blush.  
        She  
looked away. Really, she shouldn't think about things like that. Especially  
not when one of the parties was her brother. Half-brother to be sure,  
and only recently discovered, but still. She thought back to her first  
meeting with Ben, and shivered a little. Thank goodness Ben had figured  
out their connection when he had.  
        "Maggie,  
I'm sorry, about what I said before. It was ill thought-out, and quite  
premature."  
        "It's  
all right, Ben. I was a little surprised, but you know, you do have  
a point. It would solve quite a few difficulties. However, I could  
see that Ray wasn't too keen on the idea."  
        "You  
could say that," Ben said, ruefully.  
        "So.  
What now?"  
        "I  
wanted to talk to you about what would be . . . involved."  
        "Involved  
in what?"  
        "In  
the project of which we spoke."  
        "The  
project?" Maggie frowned, puzzled. "What proj . . . Oh."  
She blushed as she figured it out. "Well, First I suppose we'll  
have to plan when to do it. Actually, it's probably too soon, but right  
now would be ideal, I'm fairly sure I'm in the proper point in my cycle."  
She cleared her throat and looked at Diefenbaker. "When Casey and  
I were together . . . well, let's just say that for safety's sake I  
familiarized myself with the indicators, and I've got them now."  
        "Indicators?"  
Ben asked, puzzled.  
        "Oh,  
the usual." She avoided his gaze some more. "Mood-swings,  
cravings for high-fat foods, a change in the . . . um, there are other  
signs. Physical ones."  
        "Ah,  
I see. Well, that brings me to my point, I suppose." He cleared  
his throat uncomfortably, and stared out the window. "Maggie,  
I know you were planning to use a, shall we say, 'non-traditional' means  
of conception, however, I thought I ought to tell you that I, I mean,  
we, would understand and cooperate, should you prefer the, er, the more  
conventional method."  
        "More  
conven. . ." She thought about it for a moment, then her face went  
rosy. "Ben! Are you telling me that . . . are you offering to  
let me 'borrow' Ray?"  
        Ben  
tugged nervously at the collar of his sweater. "I, well, yes, I  
suppose that would be one way to put it."  
        "Does  
he know you're doing this?"  
        "Well,  
no, not really. But since he doesn't know the full extent of your plans,  
I'm afraid he's assuming that. . . and, well, I didn't tell him otherwise  
yet, because I thought that it should at least be offered as an option,  
since it is generally the, ah, preferred method."  
        "Oh."  
She thought about it for a moment, weighing options, considering, then  
she shook her head and sighed. "No. I really think we'd best stick  
to my original plan. Anything else would probably be a bad idea. I  
mean, he's a great guy, and I'm sure he's wonderful in . . . other ways,  
too, but I know myself. I'm very territorial, I suspect you are too."  
        "Actually, I am  
finding that I am. Surprisingly so, to be frank."  
        "There,  
you see? I knew it!" She shook her head, giving him an affectionately  
exasperated look. "You know, Ben, sometimes politeness can be taken  
to extremes. Just because it's good manners to offer someone a bite  
of your cake doesn't mean you _have_ to do it. Sometimes it's perfectly  
acceptable to be selfish."  
        "Well,  
I suppose it depends on the situation," Ben said, frowning slightly.  
        "For heaven's sake,  
Ben! If someone, oh, say Sergeant Frobisher, asked if it was okay with  
you if he slept with Ray would you say yes, just to be polite?"  
        Ben stared at her with  
the oddest expression on his face, and gave a strangled laugh. "Good  
God, no! And I'll thank you not to put images like that in my head!"  
        Maggie giggled. "Sorry,  
it was the first name that came to mind. Would Inspector Thatcher have  
been a better choice?" she asked with mock innocence.  
        "Maggie!"  
        "All right, all  
right, I'll stop. By the way, it's still your turn to cook."  
        "So it is. Would  
you prefer lunch or dinner, considering the hour?"  
        "I  
don't care as long as it's food. I'm starving, and I can't believe Ray's  
not in here sniffing around the icebox!"  
        "He's  
being polite and giving us time to talk. We'll make a proper Canadian  
of him yet. I'll start lunch. Would you mind going over and letting  
him know? I was going to take him some food but this will be better."  
        "Not a problem,"  
she said, smiling. "I'll go roust him."

* * *  


  
        "Ray? Wake up Ray."  
        Ray ignored the voice.  
        "Come on, Ray.  
Time to get up."  
        Nope.  
Not yet. Just a little longer.  
        "Lunch  
will be ready soon."  
        Lunch.  
That was almost worth getting up for. He thought about it for a moment,  
then drifted again, still pleasantly lethargic.  
        "Ray,  
if you don't get up, I'll have to get you up."  
        Uh  
oh. Threats. Well, they never had worked well. He made a noncommittal  
noise and burrowed down deeper into the blankets. The next thing he  
knew, there was something very cold and wet slithering down his neck  
and over his shoulders to soak into the blankets.  
        Snow.  
With a growl he exploded out of his nest and reached for his tormentor.  
He actually had them pinned by the time he got his mind around where  
he was, and who he was pinning.  
        "Geezus,  
Maggie!" he said, staring down into her face. "What th' hell  
d'ya think yer doin?"  
        She  
looked up at him calmly, despite the fact that they were nose-to-nose.  
"I was attempting to get you out of bed."  
        "You  
couldn't just say 'Hey, Ray, time t' get up?"  
        "I  
tried that. For twelve minutes. You were ignoring me rather spectacularly."  
        "Oh. Well, a guy's  
gotta be good at somethin', right?" He grinned.  
        "Um,  
Ray, do you think you could . . . move?"  
        Suddenly  
realizing he was lying on top of her, buck naked, he let go of her like  
she was a hot poker, rolling away to grab damp blankets and wrap them  
around himself. "Sorry," he muttered, blushing.  
        "That's  
quite all right, Ray," she said, sitting up. "Sorry about  
the snow," she grinned suddenly. "But it was rather effective,  
wasn't it?"  
        "Don't  
you dare tell Fraser, or he'll take to doin' that!"  
        Maggie  
eyed him speculatively. "What'll you give me to keep quiet?"  
        "That depends.  
What d'you want?"  
        She  
thought about that for a bit, and then smiled and shook her head. "Nothing  
that would be a good idea."  
        Ray  
blushed.  
        Maggie  
looked at him interestedly. "That goes quite far down, doesn't  
it?"  
        Ray pulled  
his blankets higher. "Maggie!"  
        She  
laughed. "Relax, I'm not planning to check your teeth. Or anything  
else."  
        He eyed  
her suspiciously for a moment, then relaxed. Slightly. He knew she  
was as good as her word, just like Ben, but sometimes they had a slightly  
different interpretation of things than he did, so it never hurt to be  
cautious.  
        "Okay.  
So, scat, and I'll get dressed and come over."  
        "You  
won't go back to sleep?"  
        "After  
that? You gotta be kiddin' me!"  
        "Just  
making sure," she said blandly, rolling to her feet in that same  
graceful way that Fraser did. Funny, he'd never thought that simple  
physical grace might be hereditary, but he couldn't think of anything  
else that explained it. They hadn't known each other as kids so they  
couldn't have unconsciously picked up each other's mannerisms. Old Man  
Fraser must have passed along some damned good genes, along with a few  
that were pretty weird.  
        "Um,  
Ray?"  
        He looked  
up, embarrassed to be caught woolgathering. "Yeah?"  
        "Ben  
said you thought I meant . . . well, anyway, I just wanted to reassure  
you that I've no intention of . . . I mean, you don't have to, um, well,"  
she blushed as pink as he had been moments earlier, then her chin lifted  
stubbornly. "Oh, you know what I mean!"  
        He  
stared back at her, trying to puzzle it out, and finally gave up. "Nope,  
not a clue."  
        Her  
blush deepened. " I mean there are other methods. To use. You  
know."  
        "I  
do?" he asked, still confused. "Gimme a hint."  
        Maggie  
chewed her lip, looking distressed, then threw up her hands. "Oh,  
just ask Ben. He'll explain!"  
        With  
that she fled. Ray starred after her, utterly baffled. That must have  
been the influence of the weird genes. Geez, if the kid they were planning  
ended up with _both_ Ray's weird genes and all those Fraser weird  
genes, then he, or she, would be in trouble. He wondered if there was  
a way to make sure only the non-weird ones got passed on. Probably not,  
not outside of a lab in Scotland somewhere, he thought, musing about  
sheep and cloning.  
        A  
lightbulb went on in his mental refrigerator. A lab in Scotland .  
'Other methods. To use. You know.' Oooooh. So _that_ was what  
Maggie had been trying to say. So he was sometimes a bit slow when he  
first woke up. Who wouldn't be? She could have come right out and said  
'artificial insemination,' or 'in vitro.' He wasn't an idiot! He shook  
his head, laughing. Okay, that made things easier. A lot easier.  
        He unwound his blankets  
and got up, looking around for his clothes. Funny, he thought. Six  
months ago if he'd wound up naked on top of Maggie, probably the last  
thing he would have done was grab a blanket and let her go Strange how  
much difference a few months could make.

* * *  


        

        Fraser walked into the  
cabin, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, starting to unfasten  
his tunic with the other. He looked around, a little puzzled that the  
room was empty, until the bedroom door opened a fraction of an inch,  
then was pushed wider.  
        "Oh,  
it's you," Ray said, stepping out, looking relieved.  
        "Who  
did you think it was?" Fraser asked, amused.  
        Ray  
ran a hand through his hair with a wry grimace. "I, ah, thought  
it might be Maggie."  
        Ben  
heard the trepidation in Ray's voice, and lifted his eyebrows. "And  
that would be a bad thing?"  
        "Today  
it would, fer sure. I finally decided I'd better just hole up and hope  
she thought I'd gone to town or something."  
        "Why?"  
        "Well, lessee, she's  
bored, she's gained fifty-six pounds, has a constant backache, fat ankles,  
breasts like watermelons, and it's all my fault."  
        "Ah,"  
Fraser said, the light dawning. "I believe I understand."  
        "I reminded her  
this was her idea in the first place, but she didn't wanta hear that."  
        Ben chuckled. "No,  
I would imagine not, whether or not it's true."  
        Ray  
grinned. "Guess I can't blame her. She did get the hard part of  
the job. All I had to do was let you . . ." He saw the color starting  
up Ben's face, and chuckled. "Anyhow, I'm glad you're home. Since  
she can't blame things on you, you can deal with her."  
        "Not  
a problem, Ray."  
        "Good.  
Man, she was on a roll today. I asked if she felt okay, and she about  
took my head off. I figured I'd better not press my luck. Anyway,  
enough about my day, how was yours?"  
        "Quiet,  
as usual. One arrest."  
        "Drunk  
and disorderly?" Ray queried, grinning.  
        "I  
see you're already familiar with the standard arrest patterns here,"  
Fraser said drily. "Well, you're close. This time it was 'public  
nuisance.' You know, I almost hate to admit this, but we had much more  
interesting and challenging cases in Chicago."  
        "We  
did, but then again we almost got dead on a regular basis in Chicago,  
so I think it's a fair trade-off."  
        "That's  
certainly true." Ben took off his tunic and moved into the bedroom  
to hang it up.  
        Ray  
followed him in, leaning against the door. "You wouldn't need a  
file clerk or somethin' wouldja? I'm going a little stir-crazy here."  
        Ben smiled. "I  
knew you couldn't stand it for long. Let me see what I can find for  
you. You have previous law enforcement experience, that ought to count  
for something. I'll check the regs and see what we could have you do,  
although, in little under two weeks you'll have your hands full around  
here."  
        Ray grinned.  
"Yeah, I did volunteer to be Mister Mom, didn't I?  
        "You  
did."  
        Fraser  
sat down to take off his boots, and Ray knelt beside him to unlace one  
while he finished the other. When he stood back up to unzip his trousers  
and take them off so he could change, Ray remained on his knees, and  
looked up with a wicked grin as he reached out to slide his hands down  
Fraser's hips, under the wool of his trousers.  
        "I  
know what I want for dinner."  
        "Patience,  
Ray."  
        Ray looked  
put out. "Why?"  
        "I  
need to check on Maggie, you said she was having a rough day."  
        Ray nodded, giving in  
gracefully. "She is, and that's a good idea. I can wait for that.  
See if she'll come over and eat. I don't think she had lunch."  
        Fraser pulled on jeans  
and a sweater, then left the cabin and walked the few feet to where they  
had moved Maggie's trailer up against the side of the cabin and knocked  
lightly.  
        "Maggie?"  
        "Yeah, Ben. Come  
on in. I'm decent. Or at least I'm dressed. I'm far from decent, as  
I'm afraid poor Ray can testify."  
        "He  
did mention you were a little, ah, emotional today," he said, stepping  
inside to find his sister sitting at her table, leaning forward with  
her head on the table and both hands on her lower back. He frowned.  
"Is something wrong?"  
        "Just  
the usual. A backache that won't go away for love nor money."  
        "Would you like  
me to . . ."  
        "Thought  
you'd never ask," she said, smiling gratefully as she moved her  
hands so he could massage her back for her. "I should have asked  
Ray to do it, but I was too busy being crabby. I hope he won't hold  
this against me."  
        "I  
think he understands, Maggie. I wouldn't worry about it."  
        "Good.  
So, how was work today?"  
        He  
chuckled as he moved over to where she sat. "You and Ray, both.  
You always ask. Neither of you can stand being out of the loop. Well,  
let's see, today I had the vastly exciting duty of arresting Davy Robillard  
for being a public nuisance."  
        She  
smiled, arching her back against the careful pressure of his hands.  
"Still courting Josie, is he?"  
        "With  
a one-man-band setup now," Fraser confirmed. "Of course, she  
bailed him out. Why she doesn't just marry him I'll never know. It  
would certainly cost her a lot less money."  
        "Ah,  
but then she'd have to put up with him all the time, instead of just  
a couple of times a week."  
        "There  
is that," Fraser confirmed, smiling. Beneath his hands he felt  
the muscles of Maggie's back tighten, and she sucked in a breath, wincing.  
        "Ow,"  
she sighed. "Eleven days to go. I can't wait!"  
        He  
smiled. "I would imagine so."  
        He  
continued his massage, gently. After a few minutes she started to relax,  
sighing.  
        "That's  
nice. It really does help."  
        Suddenly  
she tensed again, and he frowned, fanning his fingers out to either side  
of her spine, low, just above her tailbone, feeling the sudden tension  
that had exploded across her lower back slowly begin to fade. He frowned.  
That didn't feel like backache. That felt suspiciously like a contraction.  
        "How long have  
you had this backache?" he asked casually.  
        "All  
day."  
        "How  
long is all day?"  
        "I  
woke up with it, okay? What is this, you don't get to interrogate enough  
suspects in town?"  
        "Bear  
with me. Have you had any Braxton-Hicks contractions?"  
        She  
laughed. "I've been having those for weeks now. Why should today  
be different?"  
        "Would  
you sit up please?"  
        She  
sat up, and looked over her shoulder at him. "Sure. Why?"  
        "May I?" He  
asked, his hands moving forward to hover above the tight, hard curve  
of her distended belly.  
        Maggie  
frowned, then shrugged and nodded. "I guess."  
        He  
spread his hands over the lower curve, fingers gently searching, probing.  
Maggie winced.  
        "Hey,  
watch it!"  
        He  
nodded, but didn't stop, just lightened his touch a little. Down very  
low, in the pelvic cradle, he could feel a small hard curve. The baby  
was definitely engaged. He started to lift his hands, then stopped,  
stunned as he found what felt like . . . No. It couldn't be. Surely  
the midwife would have noticed long before this. He ventured higher,  
frowned; moved lower, frowned some more. As he explored, he felt her  
muscles go tight again, and she winced, reaching to rub her lower back  
again. Finally he lifted his hands and looked into her face, his gaze  
searching hers.  
        "Maggie,  
is there something you haven't told us?"  
        She  
stared at him warily, and licked her lips. "Um, what do you mean?"  
        "What I mean is  
that unless I'm very much mistaken, you're carrying twins."  
        "Oh. That."  
        "Oh, that?"  
he repeated, stunned. "Good God, Maggie! Didn't you think we should  
know?"  
        Maggie  
bit her lip, and avoided his eyes. "Of course I did, but I knew  
you'd find out in the long run, and also I knew you two would be absolutely  
unbearable if I told you, and I didn't want to spend my entire pregnancy  
smothered in cotton wool! I'm healthy as a horse, I'm not high risk,  
and Mary Lightfoot has delivered a goodly number of twins over her thirty  
years in practice! So you can just forget about making me go to the  
hospital on the twenty-third! I want my babies born here, damn it! "  
        She finished her diatribe  
with a glare that was hot enough to scorch. He lifted his hands placatingly.  
        "Now, Maggie,  
Ray and I would have respected your wishes."  
        "Sure  
you would have, after you managed to talk me into doing whatever you  
thought would be best. But like I said, you can forget about it. I'm  
having these babies right here."  
        "Yes,  
it would appear so," Fraser said. "So if you'll excuse me  
I'm going to ask Ray to drive out to get Mary and bring her back."  
        Maggie stared at him  
blankly. "Why?"  
        "You're  
in labor, Maggie. Probably have been all day."  
        She  
rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly! I think I would know if I was  
in labor, Ben."  
        "I've  
delivered a baby before, Maggie, and it's clear to me that the lower  
baby's head is firmly engaged, and you appear to be having regular contractions."  
        "Regular con. .  
. I am not!"  
        He  
nodded. "You are. Four and a half minutes apart, by my estimate.  
Perhaps a bit more."  
        She  
thought about it, and shook her head, frowning. "I'm not in labor,  
I just have a backache."  
        "I  
believe that you're experiencing what they call 'back labor.'"  
        "My water hasn't  
broken."  
        "As  
I recall from my reading, it doesn't always break before labor is well  
established. Look, Maggie, even if you're not in labor, it won't hurt  
to have Mary come out and take a look at you, right? Perhaps she might  
be able to recommend something for your back."  
        "I  
. . . I guess so. But can't Ray stay? I-- I mean, well, if you're  
right, he should be here."  
        "He  
should, but under the circumstances he does need to be the one to go  
for Mary, since I've delivered a baby before and he hasn't."  
        She sighed. "Do  
you always have to be right? It's very annoying."  
        "So  
Ray often tells me," he said, grinning. "Sorry, it's not something  
I have a lot of control over. Don't worry, he'll be back before you  
know it. Actually, why don't you come with me over to the main cabin?  
That's where all our supplies are, it will be less trouble to do things  
there."  
        She  
nodded, and he helped her to her feet, supporting her as they walked  
back over to the cabin. Ben tried not to let his concern show. She  
was nearly two weeks early, and delivering twins. He wasn't at all prepared  
for this, but he couldn't let her see that. She needed him now, and  
he would be there.

* * *  


  
        Ray stirred the soup  
on the stove and glanced at the door again. He'd figured Ben would be  
back by now. Must be having a heart-to-heart. Maggie probably needed  
someone to talk to that she wasn't mad at. Finally he heard footsteps  
on the porch, and had started to relax when a startled yelp from outside  
brought him alert. That was Maggie's voice.  
        He  
dashed across the room to throw open the door and find Ben there supporting  
Maggie, who was standing in a puddle and looking like she was about to  
pass out. Ben looked up and saw him, and went into action.  
        "Hold  
the door, Ray," he said, picking Maggie up and carrying her inside,  
through the living room, and into the bedroom. He started to settle  
her on the bed, but she protested.  
        "No,  
Ben, don't! I'm all wet!"  
        It  
wasn't until that moment that Ray understood. He and Ben had gone to  
all the classes with Maggie. He knew what this was. Her water had just  
broken. Oh. Shit. He stood there, frozen in place, trying to breathe.  
        "Ray, get her something  
to wear," Ben ordered.  
        Paralysis  
broken, Ray pawed through the closet and found one of Ben's flannel shirts.  
That would do. Grabbing it, he turned to find Ben stripping off the  
sheets so he could put down the oilcloth pad Mary had recommended using  
to protest the mattress. Maggie was nowhere in sight.  
        "Where's  
Mags?"  
        Ben nodded  
toward the bathroom they'd added to the cabin a few months earlier "In  
there. Hand her that, and then we're going to need you go drive out  
to Mary's and bring her back. I would go, but since I've had at least  
a little experience with birthing, I think I need to stay."  
        "But, it's not the  
twenty-third," Ray said, nonsensically. "We've still got eleven  
days."  
        "Technically,  
yes. In actuality, no. Maggie's in labor, now, I think she has been  
all day."  
        Ray  
felt a little dizzy. "All day? Why didn't she say somethin'?  
Was she that mad at me?"  
        "No,  
Ray, she just didn't realize it."  
        "Oh."  
That didn't make a lot of sense to him, how could she not have known?  
But it was better than thinking she had deliberately not told him. "What  
should I tell Mary?"  
        "Tell  
her the contractions have been going on most of the day and are between  
five and four minutes apart and that Maggie's water broke at six-fifty  
two."  
        Ray nodded,  
still dazed, trying to wrap his mind around the reality of what was happening.  
Maggie was in labor. She was having the baby. Now. And he was supposed  
to drive somewhere? How? He shook himself. Ben and Maggie need you  
functional. Get yourself in gear, Kowalski. He went to the bathroom  
door and knocked.  
        "Maggie?  
Got a shirt for you," he said.  
        "Thanks,  
Ray. Toss it in?"  
        He  
opened the door a bit and did so. As he started to close it again, she  
caught the edge of the door, stopping him. Holding the shirt closed,  
she spoke without meeting his eyes.  
        "Ray,  
I'm sorry I was a bitch today," she said, sounding very un-Maggie.  
        For a moment he was startled,  
then he grinned. She was speaking 'Ray,' to make sure he understood.  
"Not a problem, Mags, I probably deserved it."  
        "No,  
you didn't."  
        "Don't  
worry about it. If I was you, I'd have probably been a lot worse. I'm  
gonna go get Mary now, don't get in a hurry, okay? I wanta be here,  
y' know."  
        Her  
blue-gray eyes met his at last. "I know. I'll do my best."  
        "It's a sure thing,  
then. You Canadian's never go back on your word. It wouldn't be polite."  
        She smiled. "No,  
we don't. Drive safely, Ray."  
        "Will  
do," he said smiling back at her. "Remember, if you feel like  
smackin' some guy around, don't hit Ben, 'cuz you need him. Wait until  
I get back and hit me instead. This is all my fault, anyway, remember?"  
        She laughed. "That's  
right. I'll try to remember."  
        Ray  
turned and looked at Ben, who was re-making the bed with perfect, hospital  
corners. He shook his head. Only Ben would bother at a time like this.  
        "Ben, keys?"  
        "In the ignition."  
        Ray sighed, shaking his  
head. "Fraser, one of these days someone's going to steal that  
thing and then where will you be? Never mind, don't answer that. I'll  
be back as soon as I can."

* * *  


  
        Maggie paced the cabin,  
knowing that it would be best in the long run for her to do so, though  
her body was starting to demand, loudly, that she get off her feet.  
Ben was pacing with her, which was getting irritating, and she was already  
annoyed with him for being right. It was embarrassing to have to have  
someone else tell you that you were in labor. She should have figured  
that out for herself. It just hadn't felt like what she'd been expecting!  
        In addition to Ben, nearly  
everything was starting to be irritating, from the temperature in the  
room, to the placement of the furniture, to the color of the shirt Ray  
had given her to replace her wet dress. Funny, now that she knew she  
was in labor, it hurt worse. Was it all in her head, or was it because  
her water had finally broken and the process was accelerating? She stopped  
pacing for a moment and turned to look at Ben.  
        "Still  
timing?"  
        He  
nodded. "Of course."  
        "What  
am I up to?"  
        "Three  
minutes. How are you feeling?"  
        "How  
do you think I feel? I hurt!" At his sympathetic expression, some  
of her irritation eased, and she sighed. "I feel . . . weird. My  
knees keep trying to give out."  
        "You  
don't have to walk, you know."  
        "Mary  
said it was best to walk as long as I could. So I will."  
        "I  
seem to recall she mentioned squatting as an acceptable alternative."  
        She shook her head. "No,  
I don't want to do that yet."  
        He  
nodded, letting her make the decision.  
        "How  
long has Ray been gone?" Maggie asked, fretting. She did want  
to push. The urge was starting to be nearly irresistible, though she  
wasn't going to tell Ben that. But she couldn't push yet. Ray wasn't  
back, and she'd promised she would do all she could to wait.  
        "A  
bit over forty minutes."  
        They  
both knew the trip to Mary's and back would take another twenty minutes  
or so, even at Ray's usual speeds. And Mary would have had to load some  
things into the vehicle, so that would mean a little longer still.  
Another contraction tightened down, and she stopped, breathing deeply,  
holding on to the back of a chair until it passed. Hurry, Ray. Hurry.  
        "Turn the lamp  
down, Ben. The light hurts my eyes."  
        He  
nodded, and turned to comply.  
        "And  
open the window, it's too hot in here."  
        He  
shot her a look, finished turning down the lamp, then moved to the window  
where he hesitated. "Maggie, I realize you probably feel hot due  
to the hormonal surges of . . ."  
        "Don't  
say it," she growled. "Don't even think it, or I won't be  
responsible for my actions. Just open the damned window!"  
        He studied her face,  
then wisely opened the window a scant inch. It was enough. Cool air  
trickled into the room, and she breathed it in, relieved. A moment later  
his hands were lifting the sweaty weight of her hair, letting the air  
reach her neck.  
        "Would  
you like me to put up your hair?" Ben asked, calmly.  
        She  
nodded, still standing there clutching the back of the chair, afraid  
to let go, because her knees were shaking so hard they wouldn't hold  
her without support. Ben went away for a few moments. She was too busy  
staring at the woodgrain in the table to notice until he returned with  
her brush, a scrunchy, and a wet washcloth. She snatched the latter  
item out of his hands and buried her face in its cool, rough wetness.  
        "Better?"  
        She nodded. "Much."  
        He drew the brush  
through her hair until it was free of tangles, then twisted it up and  
secured it with the hair-tie. It felt wonderful, such a relief. It  
occurred to her then that putting up long hair was a strange skill for  
a man to know, especially one as habitually short-haired as Ben.  
        "Where'd you learn  
to do that?"  
        He  
smiled. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
        "Try me. I could  
use the distraction."  
        "It  
was in Chicago, while I was still partnered with Ray Vecchio. A friend  
of his at a Catholic girl's school was having trouble with one of her  
pupils, she had run away. Ray was trying to help, and he needed someone  
to go into the school, undercover, as a teacher. To respect both his  
friend's wishes and the needs of the job, it couldn't be a Chicago police  
officer, and it needed to be a woman. He was having trouble finding  
someone, so I . . . helped."  
        "You  
found someone for him?"  
        "In  
a manner of speaking," he gentled his voice, remembering the modulations  
of tone he had used. "I simply became 'Miss Fraser' for a few days,  
until we solved the case."  
        She  
lifted her head, staring at him in surprise. "You dressed as a  
woman?"  
        He nodded.  
"It was an interesting experience. And, among the many things I  
learned was how to use a 'scritchie.'"  
        She  
smiled. "Scrunchie, Ben, not scritchie."  
        "Right  
you are, scrunchie."  
        She  
stared at him some more, and shook her head. "I'm having trouble  
visualizing you in a dress."  
        "It  
was a medium blue, slightly fitted, double-breasted shirt-dress,"  
he said helpfully. "With a floral scarf, as the structure of the  
throat is quite distinctive between male and female. Ray said I made  
a not-unattractive woman."  
        She  
studied him a moment longer. "I would imagine so. I suspect you  
would have looked a bit like the pictures I've seen of your mother."  
        "Actually, no.  
I didn't. If you'd like to see it, I have a photograph which was taken  
at the school dance that Sister Anne sent to me."  
        "I'd  
like tha . . . oh!" A very strong contraction gripped her, stealing  
her breath, her thoughts. She rode it, breathing hard, trying not to  
push, trying not to push. Finally it left her, and she found herself  
on her knees, gasping for breath, the chair-back still clamped in white-knuckled  
hands.  
        Ben picked  
up the washcloth and gently wiped the back of her neck, and then her  
face. "A strong one?"  
        She  
nodded. "Biggest yet."  
        "Are  
you sure you're not feeling the urge to push?"  
        She  
laughed shakily, and stopped trying to deny it. "I think you can  
safely assume we've gotten to that point now."  
        "I  
thought as much." He frowned, and looked past her, clearly uncomfortable.  
"Maggie, at this point you should probably be examined to see if  
you're fully dilated and if it's safe to begin active pushing, but .  
. . well . . . you understand my dilemma, I'm sure."  
        She  
nodded. "You're my brother, and on top of that you're shy. I understand."  
        He reddened. "Ah,  
well, yes, that too, though I was primarily concerned with the fact that  
I have rather large hands."  
        She  
thought about that and winced. "Ouch. Yes, you do. But you don't  
have to do anything, now, we can wait until Ray gets back with Mary,  
since I promised him I would wait."  
        "Ah,  
well then, that's what we will do," he said firmly. "Is there  
anything I can do to help you not push?"  
        She  
nodded. "Sing."  
        He  
frowned. "Sing what?"  
        "Anything,  
so long as I know it too. Nursery songs, folk songs, anything."  
        He thought for a moment,  
then started to sing. She joined in, between contractions, as best she  
could.

* * *  


  
        Driving out to Mary Lightfoot's  
place and then back to the cabin had felt like the longest minutes of  
Ray's life. He'd flipped on the light-bar to increase his visibility,  
put it in fifth and redlined the tach most of the way. He'd been glad  
there was no traffic to speak of and for once, no livestock on the road.  
Pulling up outside Mary's cabin, he'd left the engine running as he leaped  
out and run to her door. The heavyset Native woman had opened the door,  
listened to his somewhat frantic demands and explanations, then had calmly  
told him to get her things and they would go.  
        He'd  
wanted to just throw the stuff unceremoniously into the back of the Rover,  
but she had stopped him, pointing out, reasonably, that her equipment  
and supplies would be of little use in pieces. That sank in and he stowed  
them more carefully. Mary got in and had barely fastened her safety-belt  
when he'd pulled out again. Most of the way there, Mary sat tranquilly  
in the passenger seat, looking for all the world as if he weren't driving  
like a fiend from hell but as they drew closer to the cabin she had looked  
over at him with a slightly odd expression on her face, and he noticed  
it.  
        "What?"  
he snapped, slowing down marginally.  
        "I  
was just thinking that you seem to be awfully nervous for a prospective  
uncle."  
        "Uncle?"  
he questioned, confused.  
        She  
smiled. "Raymond, everyone around here knows you're Ben's partner,  
not Maggie's. I'm not sure why you felt you had to pretend otherwise  
with me."  
        He  
felt his face heat. "You know?"  
        She  
nodded. "We know."  
        "Oh.  
Well, uh, we thought you might think it was a little weird. What we're  
doin', I mean."  
        She  
shook her head sadly. "I'm a midwife, Raymond, not a bigot. Anyone  
with eyes can see there is enough love among you to share with a child,  
or two. Maggie should have known me well enough to know that I would  
have no difficulty with this. However, it would be best if she put the  
actual father's name on the birth certificate, since there are sometimes  
reasons later on in life for children to need to know their genetic heritage."  
        "Real fath. . ."  
Ray took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her, consternated.  
"What's that s'pozed ta mean? I am the real father."  
        She  
looked at him, and he was almost pleased to see she was a little surprised.  
"You're the father?"  
        He  
nodded, grinning a little. "I are."  
        "I  
see," she smiled sheepishly. "That will teach me to make assumptions.  
I thought Maggie must have become pregnant, either accidentally or deliberately,  
by a stranger when she went to Toronto just before the three of you moved  
her trailer up to the cabin. I thought you and Ben were simply helping  
her out with this because you're her family."  
        "Nope.  
She went to Toronto to see her boss, and to get some stuff she wanted  
that's hard to find here. See, I always wanted kids, an' Ben an' I can't,  
for obvious reasons, but then Mags had this idea that she could help."  
        She considered that,  
and nodded thoughtfully. "True. Well, that certainly explains  
some of the questions Maggie was asking me awhile back."  
        Ray  
shot her a look. "Questions? What kinda questions?"  
        Mary  
smiled. "I don't believe you need to know that."  
        "Oh,  
c'mon!" Ray protested, his curiosity piqued. "You can't just  
leave it there! What?"  
        "She  
was simply asking about alternative methods of conception and what things  
could be done to assure a positive outcome. I should have realized she  
wasn't just asking idle questions." She smiled broadly. "It  
would appear that my advice was successful."  
        "Yep."  
He saw the dirt cutoff that would take them to the cabin and steered  
onto it, then looked at her, worried about her earlier comment. "You  
really think everyone knows about me an' Ben? I mean, we've been pretty  
careful, 'cause it could be a real problem, especially work-wise."  
        She laughed softly.  
"Oh, Ray. Yes, you haven been very careful, but we do know. You  
may not touch each other, but it's in your eyes, your voices, your bodies.  
No one here minds, and no one here will tell anyone to whom it might  
matter. We're just happy that Ben has someone at last. He was always  
such a lonely boy. His grandparents meant well, but what they did was  
to raise him out of his time so he never quite fit in anywhere, growing  
up with a foot in both worlds, the present and the past. He never really  
connected with anyone here, he was waiting for you, I think. He chose  
well."  
        Ray blushed  
again. "Um, thanks, I think. So how long have you known?"  
        "Since you arrived,  
Raymond. I'm surprised you thought otherwise. We're a small community,  
close-knit, very observant, and we have little to occupy our time."  
She smiled. "You were a subject of quite a few conversations at  
first, but now everyone just knows and things just are, and everything  
is fine."  
        "Oh."  
That would take some getting used to. The thought that everyone knew  
he and Ben were lovers was more than a little disconcerting, but if they'd  
known for months and no one had made a stink about it he supposed it  
was okay. It was just odd. To his relief, he came over the rise that  
blocked the cabin from view and there it was. They were home.  
        He slid to a stop in  
the gravel out front and leaped out, running for the door, praying he  
hadn't missed it. He wanted to be there. This was probably the only  
time he would ever get to do this. Slamming the door open, he skidded  
to a stop, seeing Maggie kneeling in front one of the kitchen chairs,  
clutching the back with both hands, Ben at her side. They were singing.  
Singing. Though they stopped, looking startled, when he burst into the  
room. Singing? This really was a weird family.  
        "Did  
I miss it?" Ray gasped out, then realized it was a silly question,  
because Maggie was clearly the same size she had been an hour earlier.  
        "No! I waited!"  
Maggie said, breathing hard. "I waited. Mary, can I push? Please,  
let me push now. I really have to push."  
        "We'll  
see, Maggie. Come with me, I'll check." She helped Maggie to her  
feet and guided her into the bedroom. She closed the door, then a moment  
later it opened and Mary looked out again. "Get my things, please."  
        Ray nodded, and she closed  
the door again. He found he couldn't move just yet, he was frozen to  
the spot with relief. Ben got to his feet and came over to him. "Ray,  
are you all right?"  
        "Sure.  
Fine. We gotta get Mary's stuff." He still couldn't move.  
        Ben smiled. "I'll  
get it. Why don't you stay here and catch your breath?"  
        He  
nodded. "Breath is good"  
        Chuckling  
softly, Ben left to go get Mary's supplies. A soft canine whimper made  
Ray turn, and he found Diefenbaker standing by the closed bedroom door,  
looking concerned. He must have just come in from outside. He always  
had been extremely protective of Maggie, and he didn't like not having  
access to her now when he could probably smell her stress and sense her  
pain.  
        "It's  
okay, Dief. She's just having a baby. That's kinda like having puppies,"  
Ray said, trying to reassure the wolf.  
        "That's  
more accurate than you know," Fraser said from the doorway, carrying  
Mary's medical bag in one hand, her supplies bag in the other. "I  
have something important to tell you. You may want to sit down,"  
he said, moving toward the bedroom with his burden.  
        Awful  
imaginings began to fill Ray's head, and he groped for the chair Maggie  
had just been hanging onto a moment earlier, sinking into it, gaze fixed  
on Ben's face. "What? She's not gonna die is she?"  
        Ben  
put down the bags in front of the bedroom door and quickly moved to Ray's  
side, taking his hands. "No, no, Ray. I'm sure Maggie will be  
fine."  
        "Somethin's  
wrong with the baby then?"  
        "No,  
Ray, nothing's wrong, per se. It's just that Maggie kept something  
from us."  
        "Spit  
it out, Fraser! I can't take much more of this!"  
        "Remember  
what you said about having puppies?" Ben asked.  
        Ray  
stared at him. "You can't be tryin' t'tell me she's havin' puppies.  
It don't work that way."  
        "No,  
of course not, Ray. Sorry, I should just tell you."  
        "Yes,  
you shou . . ."  
        "Maggie  
is carrying twins," Fraser said in a rush. "She didn't tell  
us earlier because she didn't want us to become overly concerned."  
        Ray stared at him. Puppies.  
No, twins. Not puppies. Get it right Twins. He wondered what it felt  
like to faint. It seemed like a good time to find out, but it didn't  
seem to be happening. He was still conscious. Just in shock. Finally  
he found his voice. It squeaked.  
        "Twins?  
She's havin' twins?"  
        Ben  
nodded. "Yes."  
        "Right  
now?"  
        "Yes,  
Ray. Right now."  
        "Omigod.  
Twins." It wasn't sinking in. He knew what the words meant but  
he couldn't quite get them to make sense.  
        Ben  
nodded again. "I know. It was a surprise to me as well."  
        "Raymond? Benton?  
Maggie would like you to come help her now."  
        They  
both turned to see Mary standing in the now-open bedroom doorway. Ray  
shot to his feet and wobbled, Ben steadied him. Mary smiled.  
        "You  
remember what to do?"  
        Ray  
nodded. "Yeah. The breathin' thing. This is really happening,  
right? I'm not dreamin'?"  
        "It's  
really happening, Ray. You're not dreaming."  
        "Twins?  
You sure? Twins?"  
        "I'm  
sure." Ben said.  
        Ray  
felt the surge of an adrenalin rush starting to kick in. He could do  
this. They'd practiced for ages. He took a deep breath. "Well,  
come on, we better get in there before she gets mad."

* * *  


  
        Caroline Amanda was born  
a little over an hour later. It took four more hours before Robert Benton  
made his debut. It was another two hours by the time everyone and everything  
was cleaned up and settled, and the house was quiet again. Mary had  
gone to Maggie's trailer to catch a few hours of sleep before she went  
home. Maggie was asleep in the main bedroom within easy reach of the  
twins, who were safely ensconced the cradle that she had bought in Toronto  
as soon as she'd found out she had conceived. Ben and Ray were sharing  
a bedroll on the floor near the woodstove. After a full day of work  
and then most of a night assisting with the births, Ben was half asleep.  
Ray, on the other hand, was completely wired.  
        "God,  
Ben, they're so little. I never really thought about how little babies  
are. When I held them, I was scared I might hurt them, by accident."  
        "You won't hurt  
them, Ray. You know that."  
        "Yeah,  
I do, but it's still there, that scared feeling."  
        "That's  
adrenalin," Ben told him, trying not to smile.  
        "Well,  
that's part of it, yeah, but there's more. I mean, there's something  
incredibly frightening about holding a baby in your hands, they're so  
fragile, and they need you so much. Then on top of that scary feeling,  
there's also that huge 'what if I screw up' kinda fear there."  
        "I think the very  
fact that you have those fears and are willing to admit them shows that  
you'll be a good father, Ray. I'm sure you will."  
        "We,  
Ben. Not me, _we_."  
        Ben  
smiled, feeling a rush of warmth that made his chest ache a little.  
"Yes, we will."  
        "That  
was incredible," Ray said, for at least the fortieth time.  
        "Go to sleep, Ray,  
you're going to need it," Ben encouraged, hoping to get a least  
a little bit of sleep himself.  
        "I  
know, Ben, but, it was just so . . . so . . ." his voice trailed  
off. "I can't describe it. I mean, it was kinda disgusting, but  
cool."  
        "I  
was there, Ray."  
        "I  
know, but it's just . . ."  
        "I  
know, Ray. It was."  
        Ray  
laughed. "Sorry, Ben. I'm keeping you awake, aren't I?"  
        "You are,"  
Ben agreed evenly, but with amusement.  
        "Sorry."  
        "You said that already."  
        "Sorry. I mean.  
Oh hell, I don't know what I mean. I'm just off my head, y' know."  
        "I do indeed,"  
Ben said, grinning despite himself. "It's quite clear."  
        "I just can't believe  
it."  
        "I  
suspect belief will set in shortly following the first diaper change."  
        Ray chuckled. "Oh  
yeah. I think you may be right about that." He suddenly clutched  
Ben's arm. "Ben? Diapers! We got diapers?"  
        "Yes,  
Ray," Ben reassured him. "We have everything we need."  
        Ray was quiet for a moment,  
then he reached out and put his arms around Ben, hugging him fiercely.  
"Yeah, I do. Thank you, for giving me this."  
        "It  
wasn't my gift, Ray. It was Maggie's."  
        "It  
was yours too. You let me have this. You gave me permission."  
        "You didn't need  
that."  
        "Yes,  
I did. If it hadn't been all right with you, I couldn't have gone ahead  
with it. I needed it to be okay with you. I couldn't do this alone."  
        "You won't be alone,  
Ray. I promise you that."  
        Ray  
sighed, and curled closer against him. "You won't either,"  
he said as if he knew that deep inside, Ben had all the same fears that  
he did. He just was better at hiding them.  
        Ben  
smiled and tightened his arms around Ray, knowing he would read in that  
as much answer as he needed. In the silence that followed, a tiny, mousy  
cry sounded, and they both sat up, listening intently. It wasn't repeated.  
The hiss and crackle of the fire in the woodstove was once more the only  
sound in the quiet. Slowly they both relaxed, and Ray chuckled.  
        "That's gonna take  
some getting used to."  
        "I  
suspect, Ray, that is quite likely to be an understatement."  
        "I think you're  
right. Better hang onto your hat, 'cause I think we're in for a hell  
of a ride."

 

* * * Finis * * *

* * *

Comments to: Kellie

  



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